Sleepwalking Hunter
by Meg7100
Summary: Shawn's stay at Mr. Turner's seems to be a breeze. But after hours the two guys get to know each other a lot better than before and Mr. Turner realizes there's a lot more to this troubled kid than he'd anticipated.
1. Chapter 1

"Shawn, hurry up! The game's started already." Cory Matthews' voice boomed through the phone.

"I'm hurrying, okay? I'll be there as soon as I can." Shawn Hunter smacked the phone down into its receiver and hurried back into the bathroom. He knelt down on the floor beside the tub and picked up the sponge off of the ledge where he had left it. He was scrubbing and scrubbing but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get the red stain of blood off the white tile floor.

He knew that he probably shouldn't bother going to Cory's. His father wouldn't be happy if he knew he'd left when he was supposed to be grounded. But then again, when was his father ever happy?

Chet Hunter's wife had left him again for the third time in a year. Shawn knew that that number would have been much larger if he had counted the amount of times Virna had left his father in total. A stupidly large number that Shawn had lost count of.

Shawn wasn't sure where his father was at that particular moment. He supposed at a bar or someone else's trailor. Or a police station. Either way he wasn't home with Shawn to watch the game like he'd promised his son. He was out doing something that he'd promised his son he wouldn't do.

"So why should I keep my promise to him?" Shawn asked himself, throwing the sponge at the ground, forcefully. He paced the floors of the small trailer, stalling, hoping his father would come in the door, but he knew it was useless. He would deal with the consequences of his actions when he came home. That is if Chet even notices that his son is missing.

"Shawn!"

Shawn opened his eyes abruptly and stared up at Jonathon Turner. "What?"

"Where do you think you're going, buddy?"

"Uh Cory's."

"I don't think so! It's 4 o'clock in the morning, Hunter." He took the leather jacket from Shawn's hands and tossed it over the coat hook with the others. He raised an eyebrow. "Were you sleep walking?"

Shawn sat down on the couch and wiped his eyes. "I think there was blood on the floor. I never cleaned it up and it was mine."

"What?"

Shawn moaned. "I should never have left. He kept his promise that time and I blew it."

Jonathon sat down beside the kid and put a hand on his back. "Shawn, that was a dream, man. You're okay."

"NO!" He jumped up to his feet. "He wouldn't have had to hit me if I had just listened but I had to go and screw it up, yet again! Way to go, idiot!"

"You're not an idiot, Hunter. Hey, look at me." Jonathon stood and grabbed hold of Shawn's shoulders. "What are you talking about? Who hit you?"

"I'm an idiot. He told me. I'm his son!" He yelled, illucidly.

"No, Shawn! Wake up. You're dreaming, buddy."

"Dad? Stop! I love you, dad!" The boy wailed, shielding his head behind his arms.

Jonathon was starting to panic. "Shawn! SHAWN! It's okay, it's okay. Hunter, wake up." He stared helplessly at the kid, his opened eyes blank and unalert. He cupped the boy's face in his hands, lightly tapping his palm against his cheek in attempt to wake him. "Come on, Hunter. Wake up!"

Shawn's cheeks were streaked with tears, his lips trembled as he cried. "Dad! Daddy!"

"SHAWN!"

Suddenly, blinking hard, the scared, whimpering little boy who just stood infront of him disappeared and was replaced with the Shawn Hunter he'd always known. "What are you doing?"

Jonathon wiped a tear away from the boy's cheek with his thumb, his hand still cupping his reddened face. He gave him a hard look.

"Oh, not again." Shawn sighed.

"Let's talk about your dad, kid."


	2. Chapter 2

Shawn didn't look as tired as Jonathon expected him to look. He didn't look as tired as Jonathon knew he himself looked. But that's the thing about being young, he thought. He doesn't have the energy he used to have when he was a kid. He could recall a few times back in college, hell even highschool, that he stayed out all night partying or at concerts and then attended classes the next morning without a wink of sleep. His mother and father would be livid when he returned home, but he was having too much fun to slow down. He was the cool teacher at John Adams High, but he knew he had most definately lost his cool.

Shawn was a pretty popular kid. Everyone wanted to be his friend, as they adored his class-clown standing and his unbeatable personality. However, the only friendship he wanted was with Cory Matthews. Jonathon couldn't help but wonder what it was that Cory had that Jonathon didn't.

It was clear that Shawn really didn't trust people. He wouldn't share anything with Jonathon deeper than his girl problems. However, he seemed to share everything with his best friend and this somehow offended Jonathon. Maybe he was jealous of the kid, but it didn't make sense that the one person who was doing everything he could to help him was the one being pushed furthest away.

"You gotta talk to me, Shawn." He had probed, but the boy turned his back on him wiping at his eyes like he could undo what had just occured.

He turned around, finally, his face blotchy and his eyes swollen and red. "What do you wanna talk about?" Shawn asked to Jonathon's annoyance.

"Oh well, Philly lost yesterday and I thought you might wanna talk about it. Get some stuff out and worked through."

Shawn frowned. "Philly won yesterday."

"Oh then, it must've been something else. Can you think of it?"

"Nope." He shrugged, turning away and heading toward his bedroom.

"Hunter!" Jonathon hurried after him, grabbing his arm to make him stay. "You're not walking away this time. You gotta tell me what you were just talking about! You really have me worried, man."

"I don't even know what I was saying. I was dreaming or something, okay? Forget about it." He stole his arm away from Jonathon's grasp and pressed on toward his bedroom.

Jonathon hesitated for a moment and then called after the kid before he could slam his door. "Did you get the blood cleaned up, Shawn?"

He halted there in the doorway.

Jonathon watched him, wishing he could see the look on his face. "You didn't keep your promise, did you? What got into you?"

"Nothing got into me! I didn't do anything wrong. I..." He spun around and glared at Jonathon. "Nice try. That almost worked."

"This isn't your fault, Shawn. You're not an idiot. You're a smart kid and I know that you know you can come to me when you need something." Jonathon took a few steps closer to him, ignoring the fact that in return the boy took just as many steps backward.

"I don't need anything from you." His words were barely audible.

He watched him, able to see right through him. "You don't have to be ashamed to cry. It's okay to be afraid."

"My father taught me how to be a man and that's more than I can say for you!" Shawn roared.

Jonathon heard himself scoff. Shawn was lashing out at him, defending Chet like he was something worth defending. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "How did he teach you? Tell me, what am I missing, Hunter?"

Shawn ran his hands through his hair and held them there clutching his head, as if to contain his thoughts. "Stop! STOP! Jonathon, please, just leave me alone!"

Jonathon approached him, crouched down so the two were level with eachother, and said: "Alone isn't better. I would never just leave you all alone. Okay?"

There were tears in the kid's eyes, as he nodded his understanding.

"Why was there blood on the floor, Shawn?" He put his hands on his still raised arms and guided them back to his sides. "Where'd it come from?"

Shawn's hands shot up to his head again and he closed his eyes tightly, a tear escaping as he did so.

"Where'd the blood come from?" He moved Shawn's hands again just to have them rise back there to the centre of his head. "Buddy, c'mon. Just..." Realization struck Jonathon like a bolt of lightning. He budged the boy's hands away once more, this time Jonathon's own hands gliding through Shawn's thick brown hair. He pushed handfuls apart until he found what he was looking for. A scab, the size of a finger, claimed the boy's scalp just a centimeter away from his part. "Ah, kid."


	3. Chapter 3

Jonathon watched Shawn from across the room, intently. The teenager sat on the living room couch, the television on to a program that would normally have him laughing quite obnoxiously to the annoyance of Jonathon. Shawn was quite clearly a morning person. _But not today, _Jonathon noted. Slouched quite far in his seat, his head was rested against the back cushion, and not a sign of emotion struck across his face. Not even once.

"Finally tired of beevus and butthead?" He asked, slumping onto the couch beside him.

Shawn jumped at the sound of his voice, seemingly oblivious to Jonathon's presence before that point. "What? Uh, no. I don't know. I'm just not feeling it today."

"Yeah, you didn't get much sleep last night. You can stay home if you want." He suggested, hoping to God that the kid would say he would so he could get some more sleep himself.

"Nah, I have basketball tryouts today."

_Damn. "_Alright, Hunter, but don't you be falling asleep in my class." He nudged him playfully in the ribs and stood up, stretching out his arms.

"Well if you taught something a little more interesting..." Shawn smirked.

"English is interesting."

"Sure, why don't you teach that?"

Jonathon pressed his lips together, impatiently. "What goes on in that head of your's?" He chuckled, reaching out and tousling his hair.

Mouth open to retort, Shawn cried out in pain at the action that was supposed to resemble affection. He grabbed the older man's hand and forced it away from his head, angrily.

Jonathon pulled his hand away, immediately regetting the action. "Hey, I'm sorry. I forgot, man."

* * *

"How did this...?" Jonathon was fingering through the teenager's hair, the feeling of nausea surging through him. His hands were shaking and his mind was racing at a mile a minute. "K-kid..." He stammered, then tried again. "What happened?"

"It's nothing. Just...just leave me alone."

"Shawn, this isn't nothing. I need you to talk to me, okay? Please talk to me." He pleaded, the room seemed to begin to spin around him.

"Jon, let it go!" He spluttered, his lip trembling.

Jonathon drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "Okay, pal. You listen to me." He bent down to Shawn's level and grasped his shoulders tightly. "I care about you, alright? I care about what happens to you. Now if someone's hurting you or did or whatever, I wanna know! I wanna protect you." He looked him in the eyes, shifting from one eye to the other, searching for a sign, for something to speak to him if not his words. His eyes told a different story then the facade he was putting up. His eyes were filled with fear and sadness and abandonment. He was small and helpless, and Jonathon didn't know how to help him. "Do you trust me?"

Shawn was unmoving. He lowered his gaze to the floor as to not meet Jonathon's.

"Shawn! Do you trust me? Answer me. Do You Trust Me?" He asked, adding emphasis to each word. He gave the boy a shake, frustration boiling beneath his skin.

He exhaled, shakily, taking a moment before he finally answered. "Yeah." He hung his head, as if in defeat, as if ashamed.

"And you know you can tell me anything, right?"

Shawn continued to stare at the ground, stubbornly.

"Because I love you, Shawn."

That caught his attention. His head shot up and his eyes finally found Jonathon's face. Without warning, the distance that had seemed like miles between the two disappeared both metaphorically and physically. Shawn thrusted himself forward, wrapping his arms around Jonathon's waist, pulling him into a hug.

Jonathon was thrown off guard, but quickly realizing the turn of events, he embraced the boy closer and tighter, holding his head against his chest with one hand and the other on his back. He seemed much smaller than he appeared. In his arms, he was nothing more than a little boy, finding solace in a man who before he'd met Shawn had felt empty and useless. This boy changed him, made him want to be better, made him realize how good he was.

Shawn shook as he sobbed in Jonathon's arms. He was clutching the back of the man's shirt like he was afraid of letting go.

"It's okay. Shhh, it's okay. I've got you, pal. I won't let anything happen to you." He said soothingly into his hair. Even as he said the words, however, he knew he couldn't keep that promise. He knew it was only a matter of time before Chet returned and stole the boy away from him. And he knew there woud be nothing he could do about it.


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you okay, bud?" Jonathon raised his hands in the air, unsure of what to do.

"You trying to kill me? Geez!" Shawn whined, holding his hand over his cut. He lowered it after a minute, revealing bright red on his pale skinned palm.

Jonathon grabbed his wrist. "You're bleeding. Oh, that looks bad. Come here." He said, leading him into the bathroom.

* * *

"Shawn." Jonathon rubbed the boy's back, softly, as he had been doing for what must have been half of an hour. "Are you okay?" He asked, noticing that he had gone silent.

Shawn pulled away, his face streaked with tears and bright red marks. He nodded, letting out one last sob as he wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt.

"Can you tell me what happened now, buddy?" He was unable to keep it in any longer. Not knowing was forcing him to guess, and his guesses were becoming horrifying.

He didn't answer. He sat on the couch and leaned back, clearly worn out and exhausted.

Jonathon knew he should probably send him to bed. Tell him everything was okay and that they could leave their problems for the morning to solve. But he couldn't. He couldn't wait and he couldn't relax until he figured out a way to protect this kid. "Shawn, I wanna help you. I wanna protect you, but you need to tell me what I'm protecting you from...or who." He added, wanting if anything for Shawn's reaction to confirm his thoughts.

Shawn let out a long sigh, perhaps realizing Jonathon's persistence wouldn't ease up until he came clean. "Okay."

Jonathon raised his eyebrows. "Okay?" He took a seat on the coffee table in front of Shawn and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. "I'm listening, buddy."

He waited for what felt like forever before he finally began to speak. He was looking around the apartment, as if hoping the words would be written on the walls. "I left when I wasn't supposed to." He closed his eyes and when he opened them he looked Jonathon in the face for the first time in an hour. "I didn't think he'd actually show so I...I...He saw me leave. He was drunk, though, he didn't know what he was doing! I just shouldn't have left."

Jonathon was surveying him carefully. He looked so pathetic, making excuses for that man. He was leaving holes in his story, holes Jonathon wanted filled and not by his imagination. "What did he do when he saw you?" He asked, surprised by his calm tone.

"I came back."

"He forced you back?"

Shawn nodded.

"How?"

Shawn's focus turned to his hands where he picked at his fingernails, nervously. "I don't know."

"How did he force you, Shawn?" Jonathon's voice was growing stern.

"He, um...He grabbed my collar." He gulped hard. "I can't do this, Jon."

"Shawn, by keeping this a secret you're making it out to be okay. It's not okay to be treated like that! I know you can do this. Then what happened?"

He sniffled loudly, but bravely continued. "He started pulling me by my hair until we got in the trailor. He was just yelling at me and stuff and then he..."

"What? What'd he do?" Jonathon pressed him, through gritted teeth.

"Please, Jon, can I just go to bed?"

"No. I mean yeah, but first...just finish please, buddy. I promise it'll be okay." He reached out and squeezed his shoulder, hoping to send some bit of reassurance.

He burried his face in his hands, his body quivering. Through his hands, his voice was muffled but he finally spoke. "He...he threw me."

Jonathon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "He...What?!"

"I don't remember really, he was drunk, and then everything was fine. So let's just forget about it alright?"

Jonathon was eyeing him closely. "You can't forget about it yourself. You're having nightmares about it! You're leaving my apartment in your sleep because of it! This won't just go away, Shawn. You said there was blood on the floor before you left?"

"No!" He answered quickly.

"What was it from?"

"NO!"

"What was it from, Shawn?" Jonathon had risen to his feet now. His excitement and his anger were overwhelming him. "Come on, Hunter. Let me in!"

Shawn stood up abruptly, stepping close to the older man, glancing up at him threateningly. His jaw was set, but his eyes were blank, as he brushed his hand across his forehead and lifted his bangs to reveal yet another ugly cut along the length of his temple.


	5. Chapter 5

AUTHOR's NOTE: I JUST NOTICED THAT THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BREAK IN TWO OF THE CHAPTERS. iT DOESN'T REALLY MAKE SENSE WITHOUT THEM, BUT THE BREAK GOES AFTER THIS SENTENCE: "Jonathon pulled his hand away, immediately regetting the action. "Hey, I'm sorry. I forgot, man. "" IN CHAPTER 4 AND THIS SENTENCE: "Jonathon grabbed his wrist. "You're bleeding. Oh, that looks bad. Come here." He said, leading him into the bathroom." IN CHAPTER 3. SORRY FOR ANY CONFUSION! I DON'T KNOW WHY IT SHOWED UP LIKE THAT. I'LL BE FIXING IT SOON. ENJOY!

* * *

Jonathon was speechless. He stared at the teenager in front of him, resentfully displaying his wounds.

Shawn was angry at this point. He was pissed off and frustrated on the outside and yet all Jonathon could see was how scared and broken he was on the inside. "Happy now?" He growled.

Looking away from the cut, Jonathon began to process what Shawn had just fired at him. "That doesn't make me happy!" He spat. "Not at all!"

He ran his fingers through his hair, gingerly, his bangs falling right back into place. "I didn't wanna tell you any of this! Thanks alot. You think I'm just some wuss, but I can handle myself, alright? Now you know everything so just... just move on!"

Jonathon studied him carefully. He could see that that wasn't what he wanted at all. And then he was reminded of what he had said earlier. How his father taught him how to be a man. Filled his head with garbage about being emotionless, alone, and taking out his frustrations on the only few people who care about him. "Do you want to know who the Shawn Hunter that I know is? The Shawn Hunter that I know is strong, brave, an excellent friend, and a smart kid. And you've got alot going for you." Jonathon shook his head. "Why can't you just accept that I care about you?"

"My dad tells me he cares about me too, Jon! You don't know him like I do. He's not bad all the time!"

"I'm not trying to replace your father, Shawn. He's your father. I want you to have a relationship with him." Jonathon choked on that last sentence, not completely sure if he meant it. He could see that he loved Chet. He loved him despite all the pain and suffering he put him through, which was just another quality of Shawn's. "All I'm trying to do is give you what he can't. What he hasn't. What you deserve. And I want you to know that you deserve that."

Shawn was speechless this time. The look on his face was one Jonathon would never forget. It was like he was seeing light for the first time, like God himself had spoken to him in revelation. After a moment, he looked away and crossed his arms across his chest. "Okay."

"Come here." He said, placing a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him into a hug.

By the time Shawn got back to bed he was wishing that it was time to get up. He couldn't stop the thoughts racing through his head and the feelings that he had but couldn't name. If what Jonathon said was true, all that stuff about him being worth something and deserving better, then Shawn had to reassess his entire life.

He really didn't think that he had it that bad. Sure, his father could get pretty scary sometimes, but at some point of the day he always slapped him on the back and said: "That's my boy!" and that was enough for Shawn. But maybe that bit of affection wasn't enough by society's standards. _Was Dad really supposed to be like Mr. Matthews?, _Shawn wondered, unable to picture his father cooking him dinner or checking his homework.

So Chet did a few things wrong over the course of Shawn's childhood. What parent didn't? Just because he'd never said he loved him doesn't mean he doesn't. Just because he'd leave him home alone for days at a time, it was better than staying with touchy-feely Bruce three trailors over who liked Shawn a little too much. So what if every time his parents faught, his dad took it out on Shawn? So what if he'd hit him with whatever was in reach? So what if he yelled at him for getting blood on the floor? Shawn wasn't the only kid in the trailor park who had bruises under his clothes.

Chet wouldn't even remember a thing once he went to sleep for a while. He'd wake up mid-afternoon sometimes and take him out of school to go fishing, to play pool, or just go for a long drive together, telling stories about his life that Shawn was pretty sure were all made up.

He would make promises, too. He'd tell Shawn he's got himself a foolproof system to make him rich in a year. How he would buy him the coolest toys and games, and get him a really nice car for his 16th birthday. How he was going to clean up, quit drinking, maybe even take Shawn to see his older brother, Jack. All these promises Shawn would try not to dwell on, because his father was still his hero. Mr. Turner was his teacher. So why then didn't Shawn miss his father like he should?

He tossed and turned all night, trying hard not to press play on the metaphorical VCR in his head. He didn't want to remember. He wanted to pretend that that time was just like all the others, but he knew deep down that it wasn't. He'd never felt fear like he had that night. He'd never slept in the playground on purpose before. He'd never thought he'd be one of those kids.


	6. Chapter 6

HEY EVERYONE. I'M SO IMPRESSED WITH HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE READ MY STORY AND REVIEWED. IT MEANS A LOT TO KNOW THAT MY WORK IS APPRECIATED. **NOTE**: I TRIED TO FIX THE BREAKS IN MY STORY WHERE THE SCENE CHANGES BUT IT DOESN'T SEEM TO BE WORKING. SO IF YOU'VE GOTTEN CONFUSED OR SOMETHING DOESN'T ADD UP IT'S PROBABLY BECAUSE THERE'S SUPPOSED TO BE A CHANGE IN SCENE. THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING! KEEP REVIEWING AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THESE SCENES. I'LL TRY TO UPDATE AS MUCH AS I CAN, BUT BE PATIENT BECAUSE I'M BUSY IN COLLEGE. THANKS AGAIN AND ENJOY!

* * *

"I'm telling you, I just fell asleep!" Shawn said for the umpteenth time to the large man infront of him.

The corners of the man's mouth twitched like he was trying to stifle a smile. "You just fell asleep. What, on your way down the slide? C'mon kid, do I really look that stupid?"

Shawn considered it for a moment. He actually did look pretty stupid and gullable at that. Shawn was a decent liar, so why couldn't he come up with a better story? "It just wasn't that fun, I guess." He mumbled, feeling that if ever there was a good time to smack his forehead and yell "doh!" like Homer Simpson, then that was it.

"Alright, kid, you're coming with me!"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Shawn shuffled backward. "Don't I get to see a badge?"

The man ran his fingers along the stitching of his coat over his breast.

Shawn shrugged. "All it says is security."

"Well that's what I am."

"Then forget it. I ain't going to the pound. Come back later when you're a real cop, then we'll talk." Shawn said smugly.

The security guard glared at him. "There's no loitering allowed, kid! You've got five seconds to get out of here before I do something i might regret! Five...Four..." Shawn didn't miss the sparkle in the guy's eyes as he threatened him.

He jumped up and sprinted out of the playground like his life depended on it. Because as he realized, his life probably did depend on it.

He didn't like the lasting presence of fear that resided in him even hours after the incident. He usually got over it in an hour and then things were back to normal. But this time he was to afraid to go back and Shawn had nowhere to go.

The sun was rising now and Shawn was estimating the seconds until the Matthews' Saturday morning breakfast. He'd finally have somewhere to go that was warm and comfortable, and then he'd feel better. They always made him feel better, even when they didn't know he didn't feel particularly well. He crashed the Matthews' family meals all the time, so his presence that morning would practically be expected. They would be none the wiser.

Even moving the muscles in his face, caused sharp, needle like pains at the top of his head. He wasnt sure if the blood had subsided, but before he was kicked out by the security guard, he rinsed his hair out in the park's drinking fountain to ensure nobody found out what happened. It hurt too much to think about what happened.

* * *

Chet wasn't drunk yet. Or maybe he was too drunk. All he knew was that he kept picturing his little boy at his feet, crying, bleeding, begging, and he thought he might have had something to do with it.

He took another swig of his beer and shook his head, trying to erase these horrifying thoughts like an etch-a-sketch. But they weren't going anywhere. They weren't disappearing like they usually did when he got drunk or when he woke up.

Why could he picture his boy in such agony? Why could he hear his voice, yelling that he was sorry? Why could he see his own hands strangling his small neck?

"Dad! Pleaaasse! I can't breathe!" He remembers that Shawn's voice was crackling and higher pitched. He would yelp in pain every time a loud bang sounded.

He wanted to ask him why he couldn't breathe, but he was too angry. He was so worked up with emotion that he wanted to rip out his mind and throw it at a wall. The wall. Chet's eyes darted toward the back wall, a sick feeling forming in his gut. He did it.

Chet grabbed his son by the arms. His arms were so puny, so easy to hold. He squeezed them into his thin frame, until he cried. He lifted him. Why was he so easy to lift? He slammed him against the wall. He heard the boy's teeth crunch together as he grunted, as his head hit the cork wall. Chet yelled jiberish at him. Why didn't he tell him to stop? He saw a tear roll off of Shawn's chin. _Stop crying, son! It's okay, yer daddy's got ya. _He wouldn't stop. Chet slammed him again and again against the wall, his toes dangling, brushing against the carpet. His anger was taunting him; sitting in his ear, instructing him. "Get out!" He yelled. He placed Shawn back on his feet, bent his knees and with a roar, he launched his legs upward, tossing his son at the door. There was a sound of glass shattering. Or was it his boy's heart shattering? Chet broke his boy's heart and now the red was all over the floor.


	7. Chapter 7

The phone rang obnoxiously at 1:18 am. Jon was still awake and so was Shawn, both in different rooms staring at the ceiling deep in thought. Shawn was usually racing to answer the phone, Jonathon's phone, to speak to one of the many girls, Jonathon's students, that were head over heels for the kid. But not tonight. Jonathon walked passed him on the way to answer the phone on its last ring, his body slumped across the couch, motionless.

"Hello?" Jonathon's voice was hoarse from lack of speech.

"Well, hi there, Teach. Wasn't expectin' to get you on that end."

Jonathon's hands were shaking. No, not his hands, his entire body was quivering with anger. How could this man damage that boy in so many ways and then feel it wise to so rudely call him up in the middle of the night? It took everything he had not to lose it on him. "You called my house and didn't think I'd answer?"

Jonathon saw Shawn look over at him, curiously.

"No, no. It's just my boy, Shawn, usually picks up."

"Oh so you call here a lot without me knowing?"

Shawn was in front of him, obviously aware of his father's presence on the other end. "Jon, I got it."

"No. Chet, Shawn's in bed right now and that's a lot more important than whatever you've got to say. You really want to talk to him? Well you've had 15 years to do that properly. Come talk to him during the day, why don't you, instead of this cheap substitute for affection!" And with that said, Jonathon hung up the phone and turned to face a bewildered looking Shawn.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Shawn yelled, pushing his hair back furiously.

"Hey, don't use that language with me! I'm in charge of you right now and you shouldn't be talking on the phone at this hour."

"You lied! You said I was in bed! You let me watch TV at this hour, why can't I talk to my dad? He'll probably never call back now." He wailed. "I just wanted to talk to him!"

"Why?" Jonathon needed to understand. "How could you still need him after all he's done?"

Shawn held eye contact with Jonathon, unblinkingly staring at him like he was trying to understand him too. He whispered: "He's my dad, Jon."

Somehow this battered kid with no hope and no guidance was still capable of teaching him some things. His love for his father was unconditional. It had to be or else Shawn would have no problems letting go of him. He wanted no other man, but the one who brought him into this world, and all that man wanted was his own happiness.

Jonathon picked up the phone and dialed *-6-9 to retrieve the number of Chet's location. A woman picked up and called out for Chet in whatever shady location they were at. He waited on the other end for ages, Shawn watching him with his arms folded, trying but failing to hide any signs of hope.

After a moment, the woman spoke again. "There's no Chet here. Bye."

"Yes, there is!" Jonathon yelled into the phone. "Tell him his son wants to talk to him. Do you hear me? His son!"

There was a pause. "You seem a little old to be his son."

"How would you know that if he isn't there?" Jonathon speculated, watching the eagerness on Shawn's face grow stronger.

Jonathon could hear shuffling in his ear, like the phone was being moved around. He felt his stomach lurch as Chet's voice finally came through the phone.

"Shawny? Shawn, I gotta tell you something, boy."

Jonathon held out the phone to Shawn, who barely gave him a chance to let go before he had it to his ear.


	8. Chapter 8

JUST BECAUSE I LOVE YOU ALL, I WORKED HARD AND DECIDED TO POST 2 TONIGHT :) ENJOY!

NOTE: I finally figured out how to put breaks in the page to show a change in scene. If you want to reread it may make more sense now.

Thanks for reading! ReViEw PlEaSe :D

* * *

"Dad?" His voice shook.

"Shawn! How ya doin', boy?"

Shawn hated the smile that spread across his face. "Good. How are you, dad?" He turned his back on Jonathon, so as to not see the betrayed look that he must have been wearing.

"Good. Good."

There were so many questions that Shawn wanted to ask his father, yet it was silent and Shawn was afraid to break it. He let out a shaky breath and felt Jon's hand on his shoulder. He still didn't dare look at him. "So, did you find mom?"

"Boy, your mama's like nailing jelly to the wall. But don't you worry, I got an idea of where she's headin' next."

Shawn didn't care much about finding his mom. She left him with his dad, knowing how he'd act without her there. Chet's obsession with Virna was terrifying, and no letter she sent could take away the fact that she left him to deal with it alone. "Well, are you coming home soon?"

"Not without my Virna, boy. I told ya, home's not home without her."

"But dad!"

"What?" Chet raised his voice.

Shawn hesitated, deciding it better to change the subject. "What did you want to tell me?

"Oh, that! Well, I had a dream about you and I just thought I'd call and say…sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry for what, dad?" Shawn felt his heart skip a beat. He'd never apologized to him before. Maybe he was finally changing. Maybe his search for Virna was changing him.

There was no response on the other end and then a loud click sent Shawn's heart sinking back.

Disappointed, Shawn turned to Jonathon and handed him back the phone. "He was in a rush. There was a lot of people lined up for the phone."

He knew Jonathon didn't believe him, but he had to lie. His dad said he was sorry, he loved him, and he cared about him. He started to walk away, but Jonathon pulled him back.

"W-wait. He said he was sorry?"

"Yeah. I'm going to bed."

"But he's not coming back?"

Shawn shrugged. "He hasn't found my mom yet."

"She doesn't want to be found, Shawn. Is he going to come and see you?"

"No. He just wants to be with her." Shawn found himself admitting, Jonathon's persistence not allowing him to be happy.

Jonathon jumped up into a sitting position on the kitchen counter. "And you don't?"

Shawn thought about that for a moment. "All she did was cry all the time."

"Did he hit her, too?"

Shawn cocked his head to the side. "Stop interrogating me. You couldn't possibly understand."

Jonathon jumped down to the floor and grabbed hold of the boy's shoulders. "No, you're right. All I can do is try. I've got to try in order to make this work."

"Make what work?"

Jonathon sighed. "Your dad sent me adoption papers."

Shawn stuttered. "He w-what? But why? He's going to find her! He'll come back for me!"

"Shawn, he hurt you. You want him to come back for… for what? So he can use you as his punching bag again?"

"He didn't do anything! Just stop!"

"Look, buddy. I know you care about him, but he deserves to pay for what he's done to you."

Shawn put his hands on Jonathon's shoulders, mirroring him. "You didn't call the cops, did you? You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

"Are you asking me how much I care about you? Then yes, I would, because I care about you that much."

"No! Jon, you're kidding, right? Jon! My dad can't go to jail, I still need him! Jon, please, don't!"

Jonathon grabbed him. Even as he struggled against his tight hold, he held him firmly and tried to calm him. "Shawn, it's going to be okay."

"NO! No, it isn't! How could you do this to me?" He was fighting him with all he had, punching his chest and pushing him, but to no prevail. "I hate you!"

"You'll be able to visit him whenever you want, you can call him…It's a second chance, kid."

"I just want my dad!" he sobbed, finally relenting and allowing Jonathon to hold him.

* * *

Jonathon shook Shawn, as he lay limp on his bed, clearly pretending to be asleep. "Shawn. Shawn, come on, we don't have time for this! This isn't going to go away if you sleep in. Get dressed." He tossed a pair of jeans from the floor on his face and left the room, exhausted.

He got in the shower that morning, hoping to wash away his pain. He was feeling so much on the inside that he was feeling it all on the outside, too. His neck was stiff, his shoulders aching, his head never stopped pounding, but the strongest pain of all was from hurting that kid. He had to hurt him to help him. He had every reason to call the police and tell them what Shawn had told them. He could lose his job, he could endanger Shawn in the worst way by not protecting him. He couldn't describe the relief he felt when he received the guardianship papers in the mail. So relieved that he forgot to think through how much work one had to put into raising a teenager, and a troubled teenager at that.

But he loved the kid. He'd spend a night over at the Matthews' and all he could do was worry about him. It would take everything in him not to pick up the phone and call him, just to make sure he was okay. He needed Shawn just as much as Shawn needed him.

Shawn finally appeared in the living room, fully dressed, a sullen look across his face.

"Come on, buddy. It's for the best."

Shawn was silent as they made their way out to his motorcycle. It wasn't until they had actually left the apartment's parking lot that he called to Jonathon and asked: "How long will this take?"

Jonathon stole a glance at him, over his shoulder, before he reassured him. "Oh, not long. They're just going to ask you some questions and then it'll be all over."

Jonathon whipped around a corner, momentarily forgetting that he had a passenger on the back of his bike to protect. The wind shot through his ears and he barely caught Shawn's response: "He's going to kill me."


	9. Chapter 9

Detective Nicholas "Nicky" Adams hated working in Special Victims Unit. He was sick, sometimes literally, of all the cases that came across his desk of rapes, kidnappings, and child abuse. He was twenty-seven years old and had seen hell on earth in the eyes of so many victims. It wasn't right. It wasn't right for any of this crap to happen to anyone, but it did, and he had to deal with it. Only problem is he couldn't deal with it.

Nicky practically threw his empty coffee mug down onto the counter, attracting the attention of everyone in the small kitchenette of the stationhouse.

"Tired, Nicky?" A tall, African American man approached him, a smile stretching across his round face.

"Shut up, Chris, I'm not in the mood." Nicky growled, refilling his cup as quickly as he could manage.

Chris chuckled, slipping his thumbs beneath his suspenders. "Whatever, man. We got an interview with another 'Night Troll' vic at 12:00, so perk up by then, okay?"

The 'Night Troll' was a pain in Nicky's ass to say the least. Every month on the 17th day, he'd steal a woman, typically in her twenties, out of her bed, drag her to a bridge somewhere in Philadelphia, and then brutally beat and rape her. He'd wear a Halloween mask, a different one every time, and no one ever saw his face. And then he'd disappear until the next month.

Why? Nicky asked himself more frequently than he could count. While everyone in the department was asking themselves why the 17th, why this age group, Nicky was asking himself, still unable to accept the horrifying atmosphere that was now his life, why be such a monster?

"Oh, I'll be walking on sunshine for that interview, pal." Nicky said sarcastically, patting his friend on the shoulder, as he walked out the door to his office.

Outside his office, there were three chairs lined against the wall that looked just like they usually did. They never contained people who looked happy to see him, they never contained people who had good news to tell him, and they were never empty.

This time, not unlike all of the others, they were filled with a boy and who he assumed to be his father. The boy was thin, pale, and fidgety. His eyes shifted around the hallway like he was expecting it to collapse right on top of him. Nicky could relate.

The man looked just as nervous. His arm was draped over the back of the boy's chair, his ankle was resting on his knee, and his foot was viciously tapping against the air. Every so often he'd wipe his large hand across his mouth, steal a look at the boy beside him, press his lips together, then look at his watch. At this rate the best news these two could give Nicky was that they were here to see another detective.

The man jumped up as soon as he laid eyes on Nicky and approached him. "Excuse me, we've been waiting for an hour. Do you happen to know where Detective Adams is or when he plans on blessing us with his presence?"

Nicky crossed his arms, amused by the guy's ignorance. "He plans on blessing himself with a cup of Joe before he blesses you with his presence." He held up his mug to the man and stalked into his office, waving for him to follow. The kid got up and followed after them and Nicky shut the door behind them.

"Sorry. I'm a little impatient." The man said, sheepishly.

Nicky ignored him. "Are you Craig Newhall?" He asked, shuffling through his appointment files.

"Jonathon Turner." He corrected him, pointing at his chest with his thumb. "And this is Shawn Hunter. We're here to file a child abuse report? I was told you were the one to speak to."

"Yeah, I'm the go-to guy." He rolled his eyes. "Have a seat, boys." And he did the same.

The boy sat down, shakily, looking at Jonathon like he was trying to communicate with him telepathically. He propped his elbows onto the arms of the chair and slouched down, almost like he was trying to hide.

"So, Shawn Hunter, what's going on, man?" He asked, casually, taking sympathy on him.

"Nothin'." He couldn't have been blunter.

Nicky waited to see if that seriously was all that Shawn was going to give him. "Nothin'? Someone been hurting you?"

"No." He muttered, staring at the floor.

"No?" '_Problem solved!' _Nicky mused to himself.

"His father's been knocking him around." Jonathon spoke up, studying Shawn as he talked.

Nicky leaned forward, looking closer at the kid in front of him. "That true?"

When Shawn didn't answer, Turner opened his mouth, but Nicky silenced him with his held up hand.

"What's your dad do to you, Shawn?" Nicky tried more gently.

"Nothin'."

Nicky sighed, trying to ignore Turner raise his eyebrows at him, in a way that said: "I told you so". "Who are you to Shawn?"

"His teacher. He's been staying with me since his dad went out of town."

"How long ago was that?"

"A few weeks."

"Where'd he go?" Nicky was confused.

"Out searching for my mom. She took off in our trailer, so I had nowhere else to stay." Shawn spoke up.

Nicky made a few notes in his file and then gave Shawn a long hard look. "You love your dad, don't you?"

Shawn sat up slowly. "Yeah."

"You look out for each other, right?"

"Yeah." He could see the kid loosening up.

"What if I told you the best way to look out for him right now was by being here with me right now and telling me about him?"

Shawn considered it for a moment. "How?"

"He doesn't like what he does to you, right? Maybe he wants to stop and he needs you help him out?"

Jonathon shifted in his seat, watching the boy like he would disappear if he took his eyes off of him.

"I don't know. It's not his fault." Shawn leaned back in his chair again, taking interest in his shoes.

"If you talk to me, I can make it stop. I can fix this, buddy. You and your dad could be a lot happier together."

He didn't miss the warning glare that Jonathon was giving Nicky. He knew he probably couldn't keep those promises. The kid was in danger and he probably always would be if he didn't get serious help. He had someone in his life that could protect him, so maybe Shawn could make it out alive.

"I…I…I don't have anything to say, Detective—"

"Call me, Nicky."

"See ya, Nicky!" Shawn stood and Jonathon stepped in his way.

"Look, Shawn, this guy can really help you. You want your dad to spend more time with you, real time? He'll bring him back home and you can visit and he won't hurt you. He won't leave you." Turner sent Nicky one last look that finally admitted defeat. This was in Nicky's ballpark now and he wasn't going to strike out on this one. Shawn wasn't going to get left under a bridge this time.


	10. Chapter 10

I JUST WANT TO SAY THANKS TO ALL MY READERS, THOSE WHO HAVE REVIEWED, IN PARTICULAR SARA, YOU'RE SO SWEET! I'M GLAD YOU ENJOY MY STORY AND IT REALLY MEANS A LOT THAT SO MANY HAVE READ IT. I CAN'T EVEN EXPRESS IN WORDS HOW EXCITED I AM. HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS CHAPTER. I'VE BEEN PLANNING IT OUT FOR WEEKS IN MY HEAD AND IT JUST KIND OF FLOWED OUT IN SUCH A WAY. I COULDN'T DECIDE IF I WAS OKAY WITH THESE EVENTS BUT I THINK IT HELPS US SEE WHO SHAWN REALLY IS. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND, WELL, ENJOY!

NOTE: Beware. If descriptions of abuse offend you please don't read, it gets kind of graffic.

Shawn could feel his lips quivering. He wanted so much to believe Jonathon and Nicky, but it was in his DNA not to trust cops and figures of authority. "But…Jon, what if he hates me?"

Jonathon opened his mouth but no words came out. He was looking at Nicky, who was standing at his desk behind him.

"Jon! You know he will! You know it! I can't do this. It's not worth it!"

"Of course it's worth it." Nicky's voice wasn't nearly as exasperated as the other two were. He was calm, probably used to dealing with screw ups and basket cases like Shawn. "You know your dad better than me or your friend here do. You know how he feels better than I can guess. Shawn, if he doesn't care about you enough to accept help, then he's never going to stop. You don't deserve that."

Two men now having told him he's alright and still it meant nothing. It wasn't coming from the right person. It meant nothing unless it came from his father. "The only thing I can't handle is…"

"Your dad not being around?" Nicky finished his sentence, the one that Shawn had regretted admitting aloud and stopped.

"Shawn, just tell him what you told me." Jonathon seemed to have finally found his words.

"I can't."

"I'm just going to ask you some questions and all you have to do is answer what you feel comfortable." Nicky tried to assure him.

"I can't!"

"What if your friend left?" Nicky offered, talking about Jon.

Shawn thought about it. Jon was his buddy, he gave him a place to sleep, and they talked about stuff. He'd cook for him, check his homework, throw a ball around with him, hug him, tell him he cares about him, and yet it still felt wrong to Shawn. He was embarrassed that he couldn't control the tears once he started getting upset. He was mortified that he acted out his nightmares in his sleep for Jonathon to witness. He could live with him and Jonathon just being buddies, without all of the mush. Maybe he didn't have to hear any more of this after all. "Okay."

"Okay?" Jon and Nicky said in unison.

Jonathon didn't seem as offended as Shawn thought he would. He almost looked relieved and Shawn decided that he'd made the right choice. Jonathon approached him, clutched Shawn's shoulders and told him: "If you need me, I'm right outside that door. You're gonna be okay, Hunter." And with that he turned and left the room.

Nicky sat down again and Shawn followed suit, feeling a little less pressure now that they were alone. It didn't matter what strangers thought about him. Shawn never cared much about what anyone thought about him, but for some reason he cared a lot about what Jonathon thought. He didn't like that look he gave him when he failed a test or neglected to hand in an assignment. He hated the look he was giving him while he watched him breaking down. He couldn't disappoint him.

"Do you want anything to drink? Eat?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, so then are you ready?"

Shawn nodded.

"Okay." Nicky picked up a pen. "So your pops knocks you around, your friend said. What does he mean by that? What does your dad do to you?"

"He, um…he hits me."

"With his hand, fist, something else?"

"Yeah."

Nicky's eyes narrowed. "Yeah to which one?"

"All of them," said Shawn, feeling his face get hot.

Nicky pressed his lips together. "What would something else be?"

"Anything."

Nicky put his pen to paper and the scratching noise made Shawn feel even more uncomfortable. Every few seconds he'd take a long hard look at Shawn and then continue to write about him. Jot down his claims like a bad sketch. "Did your dad ever hurt you really bad that you had to go to the hospital?"

Shawn had to think really hard. He remembered a few hospital trips, one with his uncle Mike when he sliced off his own fingertip with a paring knife. Another couple times with Cory. And he could remember going with his mom when he was younger, but he couldn't remember why. "I don't know. My dad always said: 'Doctors? Well they're just salesmen in bathrobes!'" Shawn lowered his voice and turned on his best southern accent, impersonating his father's.

Nicky frowned and made another note in his file. "Let me rephrase that. Has your dad ever broken any of your bones or done something you thought was really serious?"

"You have my hospital records. You know all of this already."

Nicky rolled his eyes. "Yeah, according to this you haven't even had a booster shot." He held up his hand to stop Shawn from retorting. "No, I get it. Your mom unreliable, your dad unemployed, you live between the lines. I'm not here to discuss ethics, at least not about that."

Shawn was relieved he didn't have to make up a lie about the mystery doctor that made house calls, took money under the table, and provided some sort of documentation to his school. All he knew about him was that somehow he was his uncle. "Alright, well, I've broken my arm a couple of times."

"How?"

"He pushed me. He bent it weird and…I don't remember really." Shawn ducked his head, regretting the first part of that sentence.

"Besides hitting you, did your dad ever hurt you in another way?"

"What do you mean?" He could feel his heart begin to race.

"I mean, did your dad ever touch you in a way that made you feel uncomfortable?" Nicky was beginning to look uncomfortable himself.

"What do… what do you mean?" Shawn was feeling like he was going to be sick. He didn't anticipate these kinds of questions. He was regretting every choice he'd made that day.

Nicky changed gears. "Does he drink a lot?"

"Yeah." He answered quietly.

"Do you know what alcohol does to people when they're intoxicated?"

Shawn was having trouble breathing. He'd changed his mind. He wanted Jonathon. He wanted him to be there with him. He wanted him to take him home, to get on his Harley and just forget everything. He wanted out of this room, it was suffocating him. "Yeah." He jumped up angrily, almost tipping over his chair. "But my dad didn't rape me!" He yelled at him, making a b-line for the door and slamming it as hard as he could behind him.


	11. Chapter 11

THANKS FOR THE COMMENTS, GUYS! I WAS WAITING FOR SOME FEEDBACK ON THE LAST INSTALLMENT BEFORE I UPLOADED THE NEXT. WASN'T SURE HOW MY AUDIENCE WOULD FEEL ABOUT THE WAY IT WAS TURNING. I GOT IT ALL FIGURED OUT NOW. KEEP YOUR OPINIONS COMING. I COULD ALWAYS USE YOUR INPUT! THANKS :)

* * *

Jonathon couldn't seem to stay in his seat. While pacing back and forth was making his head spin, sitting in one place, staring at a clock was making his head explode.

When Shawn agreed for him to leave the room, he almost ran out of there without looking back. He couldn't stand being in there with that man who was used to this crap. He couldn't tolerate Shawn's fear and dependence on him to make it better. He didn't have thick enough skin to listen in detail to Shawn's stories about his life. He wanted out of there more than Shawn did.

There was a part of him, however, that was hurt that Shawn didn't trust him enough to admit to him what he'd been through. The kid couldn't even look him in the eye anymore, like he was ashamed that he was talking about it. Jonathon hated feeling like he was hurting him. That look he wore was like he was the one who was beating him.

Jonathon couldn't understand loving someone the way that Shawn loved his dad. Jonathon's own dad never got along with him and practically disowned his son when he refused to work for his company and became a school teacher instead. While his dad never laid a hand on him, Jonathon still couldn't look him in the eye when they shook hands at Christmas or Thanksgiving. The same way Shawn couldn't bear to look at Jonathon.

There was yelling coming from behind Jonathon and he spun around, his hand on the doorknob when it swung open itself. Shawn made his way through, slamming the door loudly behind him. He flew down the hallway, not even stopping to fill Jonathon in or make sure he was following him. And then it occurred to Jonathon that maybe he was running away.

Jonathon ran after him, finally catching him by the arm in the front entry way. "Shawn! What happened?"

"Let me go!" He tried to pull away, but Jonathon's grip only tightened.

"What happened, Shawn?" He repeated, catching his breath.

Shawn continued to fight to him, not giving him a response.

"Shawn, just…" He knew he was fighting a losing battle. "Come on. I'll take you home."

Shawn finally looked at him, his jaw tense and his eyes full of hurt. "Where is that exactly?" He asked, dropping his gaze to Jonathon's, still clutching his arm painfully.

Jonathon released him and crouched down in front of him. "Wherever you want it to be, kid. But no matter where you go, you keep in mind I'm coming with you."

Shawn released his clenched jaw; his lips falling like his face had finally relaxed. "Why?"

Jonathon shook his head. He stood up, took the boy by the wrist and led him outside to his bike. "Where do you wanna go, bud? You wanna run away? Let's go, let's run."

"Why, Jon?!"

Jonathon spat at the ground. "You know why! You know why I'm doing all of this. Why don't you trust me?" Jonathon was losing it. His emotions were boiling over and he was trying his best to maintain his composure. He was trying not to make it about him, but he couldn't help himself. He was bothered by Shawn's mistrust. He had to understand him.

Shawn combed his hand through his hair, tucking a handful behind his ear. He sat down on the curb, tucking his arms into his stomach, hugging himself. "You're…you're the only one I trust."

"Why?" Jonathon found himself asking him, sounding a little too redundant.

Shawn looked up at him and smirked. "Okay."

He sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his small shoulders. He thought he should probably say something, but couldn't think of anything. He was too distracted by the way Shawn hadn't jumped at his touch.

"He thinks he touched me." Shawn's face was disgusted.

Jonathon watched him, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"He thinks he…He wasn't that bad! He never made me do stuff like that!"

Jonathon didn't know what to say. Had Detective Adams asked him if his father molested him? Was that why Shawn had stormed out of there? Jonathon could understand how upset that would make the kid if it weren't true. IF. But he couldn't deny the fact that he had wondered that himself. Jonathon worded his next question carefully. "What did he make you do?"

Shawn glared at him. "The only thing he ever made me do that involved taking my clothes off is bathe."

Jonathon looked at him and laughed.

Shawn smiled. "Well? It's true."

"I believe you, Hunter." He patted his back. "But you know all you had to do was tell him that."

Shawn stuck out his feet, rolling a stone between them. "He's already got me down on paper. He'll never know who I really am." He thought for a moment. "Or who my dad really is."

Jonathon stood up and held out his hand to help Shawn to his feet, as well. "Then I guess you're just going to have to make him see it."


	12. Chapter 12

THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS GUYS! KEEP THEM COMING, KEEP THEM COMING! CAN YOU GUESS AT WHAT'S COMING NEXT? LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND IF YOU LIKE WHERE THIS IS GOING. AND PLEASEEEEEEE BE PATIENT BECAUSE I'M FALLING BEHIND IN SCHOOL AND DON'T HAVE A LOT OF OPPORTUNITIES TO UPDATE, BUT I'LL DO MY BEST. THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING! ENJOY

Nicky stood in the doorway of his office, completely dumbfounded. The kid got so pissed so fast he hadn't even gotten a chance to get his thoughts together to put into a question that wouldn't offend him. He shouldn't have been so pushy. If Shawn Hunter's father had been sexually abusing him, he would never tell him about it now. He'd blown it. And why? Because he was off his game from the moment he got out of bed that morning, his mind still focussed on the 'Night Troll' and all the sickos out there.

Nicky found it hard to believe that his judgment might've been off. He had a natural talent. He was capable of just looking at a person and telling right off the bat what their story was and he doubted that his intuition was deceiving him. He knew Shawn was hiding something a lot bigger than being knocked around every once and a while. He could feel it every time he looked into his eyes. He was going to help this kid whether he wanted it or not.

"Boy, you sure know how to kill an interview, don't you?" Chris was standing in front of him, looking smug.

"Oh, why you busting my chops today, man? I can see right through this kid. I've got it all figured out." Nicky turned back into his office and sat down, leaning back into his office chair.

Chris followed him in. "I know you do, man, but you're the most insensitive person I've met. Take it easy on him, would you?"

"I am not insensitive!" Nicky started, but lost interest in his own argument, when a loud knock on his opened door interrupted him.

Turner stood in the doorway, Shawn close to his side, his head hanging low. "We're not done here." Turner growled, not waiting for an invitation before he entered the office.

Nicky glanced at Chris and thought carefully about how to respond. "That's up to Shawn to decide." He said, watching as the boy cowered behind the older man.

Jonathon backed up, putting his hand on Shawn's back, leading him forward into view. He looked at him, not uttering a word, all the while keeping a firm hand on his back. Nicky couldn't decide whether this was a gesture of support or fear that Shawn might run off again.

After a moment, Shawn ran a hand up his forehead into his hair, lifting his bangs off his face. There was a large scar dominating over his right temple, thick, red, and painful looking to receive. "My dad came home really late one night a few weeks ago. He was really drunk and my mom wasn't home. I stayed up waiting for him and when he saw me he took a swing at me. I ducked and there we go."

Turner was muttering something.

"What?" Nicky asked him, anxiously.

"The blood on the floor." He spoke up louder.

Shawn moved his hand letting his hair fall back naturally. "Yeah, it was everywhere." He never took his eyes off Nicky, a look on his face resembling pure resentment. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing three perfect red circles on his forearm. He propped his foot up on Nicky's desk, causing the men to jump. He pushed up his shorts, and there they were: four more circles on his knee. "Same here." He smacked his other leg. "From his cigarette for talking back."

"Cut here," he said, placing his hand on his head. "Broken glass from when he threw me into the door." Shawn shot Turner a look and Nicky noticed his expression changed from anger to sadness and back when he caught Nicky's eye again. "So that's it. That's the worst of it. Nothing left to show you, nothing left worth telling you. That is it." He let out a deep breath and stepped back beside Turner.

Turner patted the kid's back, a look of shock upon his face.

"So that's it, huh?" Nicky wasn't satisfied. "And do we know where Mr. Chet Hunter is?"

"He called the other night and it was local." Turner answered quickly.

Shawn's head snapped to the right to view Jonathon, obviously unaware of how close his father really was.

Nicky stood up. "Shawn, I want to thank you for your cooperation and your bravery today. I realize it wasn't easy for you to confide in me about any of that, but you did the right thing. Me and my partner, Chris, here are going to do everything in our power to help you." He stuck out his hand and Shawn shook it.

"Just bring him home." He sighed, walking out into the hallway and disappearing.

"Mr. Turner, I thank you for your help as well. He seems to really take to you." Nicky shook his hand as well, both men held on with a firm grip. "If you take Shawn upstairs, we just want to get some picture of his scars and such to use as evidence."

He nodded and left the room without hesitation.

Chris sat down in the chair across from Nicky's desk, nodding his head up and down. "You did good, man. This should be an easy one for ya." He speculated.

Nicky shook his head, his eyes narrowing. "No, not that easy."

"What?!" Chris clearly wasn't on the same page as him.

"You were sitting right there. You met that guy, Chris. I don't trust him one bit."

"Who? Shawn?"

"No, man, his teacher! That doesn't seem a little strange to you? He takes him in when his dad mysteriously leaves, he's got all these injuries but Turner convinces him to tell the police it was his missing father, and he does everything that loser tells him to!" Nicky sat down and opened up Shawn Hunter's file. He glanced over the picture of him; his brown hair in his eyes, squinting against the sunlight, his smile small and barely convincing. "Someone's abusing this kid. Whether it's Hunter or Turner or both, I'm gonna figure this out. But I'm telling you right now, buddy, something doesn't smell right."


	13. Chapter 13

Cory slammed his locker door shut and took a good long look at his friend. "I can't believe you never told me any of this, Shawn." He said, tossing his books carelessly to the floor. "My stomach feels all queasy. You watched me down all those burritos! Why didn't you stop me? You're sick, Sir. You are."

"Cor, come on. You were in burrito bliss!" He shook his head. "Okay, this isn't even about burritos."

"No, you're right. This is about my best friend who hid a very important part of his life from me all these years when I could've helped him out. I don't even know you anymore, Shawn…if that's even your real name!"

"Cory, my real name is still Shawn. It's not that big of a deal." Shawn brushed his hair back, catching the attention of a pretty girl passing by and winking at her.

"It's a huge deal! I used to like your father even though he was big and burly and called me 'Corky'." Cory picked up his books and handed them to Shawn while he bent over to tie his shoe.

Shawn didn't say anything for a moment. When Cory looked up at him he noticed his eyes dart toward a girl across the hall, making Cory think he might've been watching him before he caught him. "What do you mean 'used to'? He's still my dad, Cor."

"How can you say that after everything he put you through?" Cory straightened up and paused. "Wait a minute. You had a black eye at my birthday party last year. You said it was the goat from your trailer park. You lied!"

Shawn shrugged. "Come on, man. How did the goat punch me in the face?"

Cory blushed. "Well naturally I assumed you were in fetal. I was in fetal when…" He stopped himself. "Never mind."

"It's really nothing, man. I deal with it. It's like how your mom freaks out over grass stains."

"That is not the same! You told Turner. Obviously it was getting to you." Cory put his finger to Shawn's chest, accusingly.

"He figured it out, okay?"

"Well, I don't care! You didn't tell me and…and I'm not talking to you for the rest of the day!"

Shawn smiled at him. "Promise?"

Cory sucked in his cheeks, the need to talk overwhelming him. He didn't even last a full minute before he started up again. "I'm going to ignore that comment, young man." He said, pointing a finger at him. "I can't believe your dad hit you. You must've been so scared. I had no idea anything like that was going on. I feel like I should've."

Shawn thrust Cory's books back into his arms. "You need to stop making this about you. How could you have known?"

"How could I have known? I'm your best friend, Hunter! That's kind of the selling point for us. We buy you presents for no friggin' reason and we notice when something really bad is happening to you." He followed Shawn into Turner's English class, unable to tell if Shawn was upset with him or not. "I failed as a friend, man. You know what that means? That means you didn't get your money's worth. That means I'm a dud and I need to be sent back to the manufacturer!"

Shawn sat down in his usual seat at the back and Cory sat in front of him, backwards in his chair so he could still face Shawn. "Stop making jokes, man. You're a great friend. That's why I told you. I hate secrets."

Cory frowned. "But you've kept this one for your whole life."

"Yeah, well, everyone has secrets. There's some things people keep to themselves. I'm sure there's stuff you've never told me."

"Oh, well there's this one time—"

Shawn put his hands over his ears. "Keep it appropriate, buddy!"

"Oh. Never mind." Cory grinned at him, having it returned by his friend. Cory couldn't even begin to wrap his head around the idea that his friend was being abused all those years growing up. They were so close, or at least he thought so, and Shawn still never trusted him enough to tell him. Maybe he knew he would try and convince him to go to the police or tell his parents, but he had to know he would only do that because he was worried about him.

"Okay! Today, for a change in routine, Matthews, I'm going to teach from the front of the class, so you can just go ahead and spin around for me, 'kay?"

Cory hadn't noticed Mr. Turner walk into the classroom. He turned himself around, feeling his face redden with embarrassment. "Well, alright, but only because you said please." Corry grinned, pleased by the chuckles that came from his classmates.

"He didn't say please, Cory." Shawn said. "Maybe, you should give us some notice next time so the man doesn't have to inconvenience himself, huh?"

No one laughed that time. Everyone's eyes were on Shawn, not entirely shocked to see him mouthing off at a teacher, but definitely entertained.

"Shawn, he was kidding." Cory informed him, hoping that he hadn't realized that for himself.

Mr. Turner didn't have a snappy comeback like he usually did. All he did was stand there, his hands on his hips, glaring at Shawn. Or at least that's what Corry thought it could be. He'd never seen that look upon Turner's face, and he'd been on the receiving end of a lot of Turner's looks these past two years.

"Whatever. I'm just saying an apology might be in order."

"Hunter! Stop talking now, okay?" Turner warned him.

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Sure, when's detention?"

"I'll let you know next time you open your mouth." Turner watched him, probably to see if he would interrupt him again. When he didn't he turned to the blackboard and began writing out his lesson.

Cory looked at Shawn over his shoulder, squinted his eyes and stuck out his hand in a way that said: "What was that?"

Shawn saw him but looked away, avoiding eye contact. He was silent for most of the lesson but as the end neared, Cory could tell that he couldn't stand being there. He yawned very loudly and obnoxiously when Minkus read his well-constructed expository essay of an answer to the class. Turner sent him a dirty look, but didn't let him ruin his lesson. It wasn't until Topanga raised her hand at ten minutes until the lunch bell that Shawn started to lose it.

"Mr. Turner, will we have to know all of the short stories that we've read for the test tomorrow?" Topanga asked, in her sweet little preppy voice.

Cory wasn't sure if the fact that it was Topanga asking the question or if he had forgotten about the test that made him act up, but Cory wasn't sure he understood what was going on with his friend.

"You know what makes you such a terrible teacher?"

Cory wasn't going to get into trouble for turning around this time for everyone in the classroom had done the same thing, even Mr. Turner who was previously facing the chalkboard.

"You think we all want to right a test tomorrow on this lame trash you call interesting? Well we don't! You know what we want to do? This!" Shawn stood up and pushed over his desk, sending his books flying.

The guy sitting beside him jumped out of his desk to avoid getting hit. Everyone was on their feet at that point. Not all riled up because of Shawn's protest, but because they were concerned about him losing it on them next.

"Shawn, what are you doing?" Cory exclaimed, a little frightened by him as well.

Turner had grabbed him by the arm and was leading out into the hallway, faster than Shawn had seemed to realize what he'd done and who had him. "So detention's at 3 o' clock as usual." Cory heard Mr. Turner telling Shawn. "Let's go talk to Feeny now."


	14. Chapter 14

THANKS EVERYONE FOR THE WONDERFUL REVIEWS! I AM SO THRILLED! I ACCEPT ANY TYPE OF FEEDBACK AND PLEASSSSEEEEE DON'T HOLD BACK IF YOU HAVE SOME CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM. I'M TRYING TO MAKE THE CHAPTERS A LITTLE LONGER, BUT YOU KNOW IF THEY GET LONGER IT MEANS MORE TIME TO WAIT BETWEEN CHAPTERS SO…CHOOSE CAREFULLY HAHA. ANYWAYS THANKS SO MUCH FOR GIVING ME SO MUCH ATTENTION! I TRULY LOVE TO WRITE AND WOULD'VE WRITTEN THIS WHETHER ANYONE READ IT OR NOT. SO WITH THAT SAID: HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS ONE!

* * *

"Let go of me, Jon!" Shawn was yelling at him as he dragged him down the hallway.

Jonathon was struggling to keep hold of him, but he wouldn't relent. He was afraid of what Shawn might do if he let him go. "No. You got physical in there, Hunter. Now that gives me a right to use force." The kid kept struggling, though, and Jonathon was reminded of the last time he was being fought off like that. It was at his buddy's bachelor party. He was wasted and a football player, but somehow Shawn's fit was measuring up to this guy's drunken rage.

"You're hurting me."

Jonathon released him instantly. "Are you okay? I'm sorry, kiddo. I didn't know…" His voice trailed off and turned to a groan as he toppled backward, holding his jaw. He went to yell but no sound came out as he watched Shawn bound for the door and disappear.

"He hit me." Jonathon repeated for probably the 12th time to an impatient Mr. Feeny. He sat opposite him in the principal's office, the same chair he was intending on putting Shawn in until he cooled off. "I can't believe he… I thought I was finally getting through to him. I thought he trusted me. I had no idea he wanted away from me that badly." Jonathon shook his head, staring blankly at the desk in front of him, seeing nothing but Shawn's hate filled face.

"This isn't about you, Jonathon." Mr. Feeny assured him. "Mr. Hunter is facing a very difficult time in his young life. It isn't personal. He's taking it out on you because he knows you will forgive him."

Jonathon thought about that for a moment. "What if he just doesn't want me apart of his life? I just adopted him, George! I don't know anything about parenting, let alone parenting…someone like him."

"Jonathon, you are speaking to a man who never had children of his own. However, I have much experience with them as students. And with Mr. Hunter. You have to understand that the only thing new to him here is this stable life that you are providing him with. He's all too familiar with lying." Mr. Feeny walked over to the window, peering out over the garden below. "He is nothing more than a lovely Rex Bogonia. These are a very tender perennial. You can go ahead and plant it in your garden but with the sun shining right on it, it will simply not develop. However, if left in the shade or brought away from such spotlights it flourishes at any time of year. But on its own terms and it is completely a surprise. A pleasant surprise nonetheless."

Jonathon crossed his arms. "So you think I'm putting too much pressure on him?"

Mr. Feeny turned to him, a sad look on his face. "I think that that boy is a lot more complex than we give him credit for."

"We both knew he had a lot more hidden potential." Jonathon tried defending himself.

"We never suspected he was capable of hiding such a horrible part of his life." Mr. Feeny sighed.

"But we never thought it would come to this!"

Mr. Feeny looked disgruntled. "Shawn Hunter slipped through the cracks, Mr. Turner. This is every teacher or childcare worker's nightmare. We all failed him and now we have to try and save him."

Jonathon leaned forward. "Now who's being a little hard on himself?"

"I've known that boy for his entire existence. I had every opportunity to save him and I didn't. I didn't see what kind of hell he was suffering through and I didn't even try." He pressed his lips together, staring out the window, like it held the content of the past.

"We were all wary of Chet Hunter. We heard Shawn's comments in class about his family. His poetry, his reflections on life, his jokes. We all took them in dreading the day we might have to meet his family. We thought he was okay as long as he could crack jokes. We all underestimated him."

Mr. Feeny was silent for a moment. He shook his head, as if shaking away unwanted thoughts and then faced Jonathon. "All we can do now is be there for him. He needs you. Even if he doesn't realize it right now, he'll come back to you."

"And what about the police?" Jonathon had begged him not to call, but Feeny wouldn't let the rules slide. "They'll want to take him in. They already don't trust me. I can feel it."

"You don't have to press charges. You're his legal guardian now. You have nothing to prove to them, Jonathon."

"I can't shake this feeling in my gut."

Mr. Feeny put his hand on his arm. "Then go get him."

* * *

Jonathon returned to his apartment at 11pm, the third time that night he had checked back in just to see if Shawn had come home. He turned on the living room light and almost dropped to the floor with relief when he found Shawn sitting there on the couch.

"Oh, thank God!"

Shawn was in one piece. His hair was still neatly styled as always, his face was clean, and his clothes looked exactly the same. He looked nothing like Jonathon had spent the entire afternoon imagining, worst case scenario.

"Are you alright?" Jonathon still had to ask.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He wouldn't look at him.

Jonathon sat beside him, fighting the urge to wrap him up in his arms. "Shawn, you had me scared to death!"

"Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. Start yelling at me now."

Jonathon studied him. "No. I want you to start yelling at me now."

The look on his face resembled his confusion. "Why would I yell at you?"

"Well, you spent a lot of time doing that today. Maybe you're not done. I think you still have some stuff to get off your chest."

"No." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, alright? I don't know what got into me."

"No, Shawn. You don't know what got out of you. You need to let that stuff out. You need to open up."

"I'm sorry I punched you." Shawn stared at the ground.

Jonathon lifted his chin and forced him to look at him. "I don't care. As long as you're taking it out on me, then that means you're not out on the streets getting into trouble or getting hurt."

He blinked hard, his eyes filled with moisture. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk."

"Promise me you'll never do anything like that again. Never run away like that again, Shawn." All Jonathon wanted was for Shawn to be okay. He didn't know how to get him there, though. All he knew was that if Shawn would tell him everything he needed to know than he'd be able to take some of that burden off. Maybe kill Chet off in his fantasies a little better, knowing fully what level of monster he was. Maybe he could help Shawn see that Chet was no good for him and help him move on. Or maybe he could, at the very least, be the one that Shawn turns to when things get to be too much, instead of running away and doing something stupid.

"I'm sorry I'm such a screw up." His voice cracked.

"Hey, did you hear me?" Jonathon cupped the boy's face in his hand. "I told you I don't care about that stuff! I just want you safe!"

Shawn closed his eyes. "I know," he said, resting his head on Jonathon's shoulder, defeated.


	15. Chapter 15

I DIDN'T GET ANY NEGATIVE FEEDBACK THIS TIME, SO IF SOMETHING WAS BOTHERING YOU ABOUT MY WRITING OR WHATNOT THEN TOO BAD. I COULDN'T WAIT TO START THIS CHAPTER, SO YOU BETTER LIKE IT ;) THANKS SO MUCH, ALEX! I ALMOST CRIED. I'M SO USED TO JUST WRITING FOR MYSELF, I USUALLY HAVE NO IDEA WHAT OTHERS WILL THINK.

**WARNING**: BEWARE OF SWEARING! I CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT I RATED THIS STORY, IF I RATED CORRECTLY, OR EVEN WHAT THE RATINGS MEAN, SO I'M JUST WARNING YOU NOW THAT THERE IS SWEARING IN THIS CHAPTER. IF SWEARING OFFENDS YOU THEN PLEASE DON'T READ ON AND PLEASE FORGIVE ME. I GOT A LITTLE CARRIED AWAY BUT EMOTIONS WERE FLYING.

If anyone can tell me how to fix that I would very much appreciate it :)

ANYWAYS...ENJOY!

* * *

Nicky swung around the corner, not caring that there was a stop sign or that there was a pedestrian waiting on the sidewalk to cross the street. He was going well over the speed limit and couldn't care less. Today wasn't any better than all the other days, in fact it was worse. It was worse because there was another victim of the 'Night Troll' left under the Benjamin Franklin Bridge and he spent his entire day trying to console her enough just to have her tell him, like all the others, that she never saw his face.

"Slow down, man! I'm about to puke up my lunch all over you!" Chris yelled, holding onto the door handle with white knuckles.

Nicky ignored him, wishing he could've been out on his own that night. He pulled into the parking lot and swerved, rather strategically, into a space.

Chris coughed, holding his stomach, but Nicky was almost positive he was exaggerating. "I'm driving for now on, okay? And I'm also going to see about getting that license taken away from you, you maniac!"

"You do that, buddy." Nicky gave him the best smile he could muster considering the mood he was in and got out of the car, taking a long drink of his coffee.

Chris leaped from the car, falling to his knees. "Land! Land!" He kissed the ground, watching Nicky from the corner of his eye.

"Are you doing everything in your power to piss me off right now or did you just forget to take your meds this morning?" He said dryly, not having the patience to mess around.

"Geez, man, you need to lighten up," said Chris, pulling himself to his feet and slamming the car door shut.

"Let's just do this, alright?" He slammed his own door and looked up at the apartment building, apprehensively. He wasn't sure if coming here would help him find answers, but he was determined to at least make a dent in one of his cases.

Chris made his way closer to the street light opposite the building, and adjusted his clothes and brushed out the wrinkles. "I don't know what we're even doing here, Nicky." He mumbled, as he tucked his shirt back in. "It's eleven o'clock at night. If the kid's even awake, he'll be watching the Friday night line-up and there's just no interrupting a dude when he's doing that!"

Nicky gave him a look.

He returned it. "You get that I'm trying to express how wrong this is, showing up on some guy's doorstep in the middle of the night, with no warrant, unannounced, when he's the victim, right?"

Nicky scoffed. "Didn't faze me." He wiped his eyes, hating how right his friend probably was. "I know it looks bad, but I don't get a good feeling being around that Turner character. We've got nothing on him so I'm going to dig up something. I can tell ya one thing. He isn't some golden boy, that's for sure."

Chris shook his head. "Look Nicky, you're a good cop. You've got some killer instincts so I'll give you the benefit of a doubt."

"Thank you." That was all Nicky wanted to hear, but he knew more was coming. When he saw Chris open his mouth again, Nicky rolled his eyes.

"But! If we don't find anything here tonight, you gotta promise me you'll let this go, okay?"

Nicky turned his back on him and started toward the building.

"Nicky! Promise me."

He sighed. "Fine! But you've gotta keep an open mind tonight, man."

"Fine."

Four floors up, the seventh door on the right, and Nicky was almost ready to break down the door before he'd even knocked. It was a shady apartment building that looked like a terrible place to raise a kid. And then he remembered the fact that Shawn had been raised in a trailer park and that this building probably seemed like a couple steps ahead of his old life.

Nicky hammered on the door with his fist, not caring if he woke the guy. He wasn't leaving until he had something on him. He didn't relent on his steady rhythm, determined enough that he would stand there all night if he had to.

Chris gasped with laughter. He stood back against the opposite wall, shaking his head like he couldn't believe how ridiculous his partner was being.

Nicky's jaw tightened. "Laugh it up, buddy. Laugh it up."

Finally, the door swung open and Jonathon Turner stood in the doorway, wearing a wife beater, track pants, and an expression that was more pissed off than Nicky's. "What in God's name are you doing here at this hour?"

Nicky didn't bother smiling politely or even apologizing. "Got some questions for you. Can we come in?"

Turner hesitated for a moment, but swung the door further opened for the men to enter.

Chris shook his hand and apologized on his way past him but Nicky ignored him, instead surveying the room in search of evidence.

"Shawn's asleep so keep it down, okay?" Jonathon's voice was low and raspy. Between that and his messy hair, Nicky was quite positive he had been asleep too.

"Sure. Sure." Chris picked up a picture frame. Inside it was a photo of a much younger Turner and what looked like a 1964 Harley Davidson. "Do you have a lot of experience with kids?"

Turner looked puzzled. "Yeah, I'm a high school teacher."

"Yeah? And you ride motorcycles, too. They must think you're real cool." Nicky commented, glancing at it over Chris' shoulder.

"They think I'm a hard ass, which I am, but they trust me. I'm a friend as much as a mentor." Turner crossed his arms, appearing a little uncomfortable.

Nicky raised his eyebrows. "Really? A friend? Do you spend a lot of time with them alone? Do you take them for rides on your bike, too?"

Turner held out his hands, like he had no idea what he was talking about. "What? No, of course not! When I said friend I meant I take time to listen to them during and after the bell if they've got a problem. Don't twist my words around."

"So you don't do it for everybody, but you do it for Shawn?"

"No!"

"Well you let him come over to your house and sleepover. You think that's okay?"

Jonathon was clenching and unclenching his fists. He was getting pretty uncomfortable for someone who was innocent. "He was staying with me when his dad went away. I couldn't say no!"

Chris stepped up, his voice a lot calmer. "Why would he ask to stay with you? You're his teacher. Don't you think that's a little inappropriate?"

He stuttered. "I…I…took every precaution. I knew how it would look but I wanted to help the kid. He had no one."

"Really?" Nicky tested him. "Isn't it true that he was originally staying with his friend before you persuaded him to come live with you?"

Turner wiped at his forehead. "No, I didn't… He was miserable there. They were overwhelmed with all the kids. I thought I was doing him a favour…" He wiped sweat from his face again. "Wait a minute. Do you have a warrant, pal?"

Nicky smiled. "Nope."

"Then get out of here."

"Why? You got something to hide?"

He shook his head. "No, but you're harassing me and I don't think your captain would like it to know that it's the middle of the night."

Nicky was losing hope, almost ready to throw in the towel when a loud yell rang through the room and caused him to send the picture frame crashing to the floor.

"No! NOO! Please, don't! Pleasseee! Owe!"

"Shawn!" Turner yelled, making a break for the kid.

Nicky grabbed him by the throat and swung him up against the wall, pinning him. "What are you doing to him, you sick fuck?!" Nicky yelled, pushing his forearm harder and harder into his throat.

He tried to speak but ended up gagging, to Nicky's enjoyment. He deserved to die and Nicky wished nothing more than to kill him right there with his bare hands.

Chris had gone flying across the room, searching for Shawn, and disappeared behind a door where he supposed he'd found him. There was silence for what felt like forever, causing a sick feeling in Nicky's stomach to form. What was the perv doing to him? Who was in there with him? Were they too late?

All of his thoughts were confirmed when Chris' panicking voice boomed into the living room. "Nicky! Nick, get in here! NOW!"


	16. Chapter 16

SPECIAL TREAT! I DID TWO TONIGHT YOU'RE WELCOME! ENJOY!

**WARNING**: THERE IS SOME SWEARING IN THIS CHAPTER TOO. PLEASE DON'T READ IF THAT OFFENDS YOU. THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE :)

* * *

Jonathon couldn't remember ever being more scared in his life. He wasn't scared because another man was strangling him and he was beginning to black out. He wasn't scared because he was looking extremely guilty and he could end up in a lot of trouble. He was scared because Shawn was in there yelling and crying and something was seriously wrong with him, but Jonathon couldn't get at him to help him.

"What are you doing to him, you sick fuck?!" Nicky spat at him, slamming him up against the wall for the third time.

Jonathon was trying to pry at his hands, but that only made Nicky stick his forearm in place of them and provide more pressure to his throat.

"Nicky! Nick, get in here! NOW!" Chris yelled, Nicky finally loosening up on his grip due to the distraction.

Jonathon took advantage and drove his elbow into the detective's face. He bounded for Shawn's room, closely followed by Nicky, who was swearing at him all the way.

Nicky grabbed hold of Jonathon's wrists, quickly cuffing his hands behind his back. "You stay away from him! You won't touch him again, Turner!"

"Nicky, look at him! What's wrong with him?" Chris was kneeling on the floor beside Shawn's bed, wide eyed and panicked.

Shawn was sitting straight up in his bed, his eyes were opened, his face was extremely pale, and his body was shaking.

"He just keeps on yelling! It's like he doesn't see me. Is he sick?" Chris asked, turning to look at Jonathon.

Jonathon stepped in closer, dragging behind him Nicky who was trying to restrain him. He shook his head. "He's asleep. He has these nightmares. He—"

"NO!" Shawn shrieked, causing all three men to jump. "No! Please, don't! I'm sorry, Dad! I won't do it again, I promise! Pleaaase!"

"Shawn! It's okay, little man! Wake up. Please, wake up!" Chris pleaded with him. "Dude, do something!"

He was talking to Jonathon, reminding him of why he couldn't move. "How about you get your buddy here off of me?" He growled, shaking his wrists to sound the noise of the handcuffs.

"Nicky, let him go! It's not him! Let him go!"

Nicky finally released him, Jonathon sensing a bit of reluctance, as he took his time.

Jonathon took Chris' place at the side of his bed, sitting on the edge, like he'd done for the second night that week. "Shawn, wake up! It's okay. No one's gonna hurt you. You're dreaming, Hunter. Just wake up buddy." He took his face in his hands, wiping away a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Dad! Dad, no! Please, stop! No! NO!"

"Shawn, it's okay!" Jonathon was feeling a lot like breaking down himself. He was so afraid that this recurring nightmare was a re-enactment. His whole body was shaking, almost as bad as Shawn's, and he wanted nothing more than to wake him up.

"Does this happen a lot?" Chris asked him, who was hesitating close behind him.

Jonathon swallowed hard. "Yeah, he keeps having the same dream over and over." He pushed Shawn's hair out of his face and swiped two more tears from his cheeks. "Shawn! Wake up now, buddy. Come on. It's okay!"

"NO! NOO!" He wailed, his lips trembling and the tears pouring from his brown eyes like open faucets.

"Yes, wake up! SHAWN!"

Finally, Shawn moaned, wiped his face, then looked at Jonathon seeming to realize what was going on. "Oh, come on."

"Shhh, it's okay." Jonathon tried to soothe him. He leaned in and kissed his forehead, feeling his own heart rate settle to a normal pace. "You're okay, buddy. You're okay."

"Jon, why's this keep happening to me?" He cried, gasping for breath.

Jonathon stroked his hair, wishing he had a better answer. "I don't know, pal."

"What the hell?!" Shawn exclaimed, staring up at the two other men in the room. He jumped out of bed and wiped his face on his sleeve, turning his back completely. "Why are they here?" He yelled, pushing his fingers through his hair, like he always did when he was stressed.

Jonathon glared up at Nicky, refusing to answer for him.

"We just had some questions for Jonny, here." Nicky tried to sound sincere but Jonathon could tell even Shawn didn't buy it.

"Oh, God! Get out!" He finally turned to face them, tears still streaming from his eyes. "Is Cory here, too? My girlfriend? Mr. Feeny?"

Jonathon snorted. "Don't worry, Shawn. They're on their way out. Right, guys?" He asked, stretching out his neck and feeling the pain from being attacked. "I'll walk them out."

Both guys looked guilty as he stalked behind them, wishing he could have another swing at Nicky.

"You think I'm not reporting this, you're nuts!" Jonathon hissed, quietly as to ensure Shawn didn't hear him.

"You took a swing at me first, man! I could arrest you right now!" Nicky roared.

"You showed up here in the middle of the night, uninvited, no warrant, no nothing! You make all your accusations and then try to kill me, keeping me from my kid who was in trouble! I better never see your faces again! And you stay away from Shawn, too!" He slammed the door in their faces and with shaking hands, picked up the phone and dialed.


	17. Chapter 17

Jonathon knew it was strange. He knew from the very moment that Shawn mysteriously showed up at his apartment, that something wasn't right. He knew how it looked to the other teachers, the students, the parents, his neighbours, but he wasn't concerned about what they thought. Jonathon wasn't a creepy weirdo. He didn't have a special liking for children or for Shawn for that matter. He only wanted to help the kid, and the only option to truly help him was if he stepped in himself.

Shawn, from that time on, kept showing up on his doorstep. He wasn't even sure how he got a hold of his address considering he was unlisted in the phonebook for professional reasons. But he found him. What was a guy to do? Shawn had taken to him like he'd never taken to any authority figure before. He trusted him. He trusted him enough that he believed that Jonathon wouldn't sell him down the river.

Jonathon foresaw Shawn's troubles at the Matthews'. With three kids already, Alan and Amy were overwhelmed. Shawn was a difficult kid to care for. He didn't fit into regular routines and was used to looking after himself. That alone posed a problem for the family, because they thrived off of each other, being together as a team. Family: something Shawn was not accustomed to.

So Jonathon didn't tell him how inappropriate it was for him to show up on his doorstep. He guessed that Shawn didn't even realize that he was doing anything wrong. He did and said a lot of things that were improper and impolite, but no one had ever taught him any better. He needed a teacher, a parent, a family.

"I don't get it." He'd admitted after the detectives left. "What were they doing here?"

Jonathon thought about lying. He wondered if telling him "nothing" would really benefit him. Maybe that's what a good parent would do. Maybe that's what Alan and Amy would have done, but Jonathon didn't see how that was protecting him. Hiding things, hiding the truth wasn't protecting him from getting hurt. "They don't like me much." Jonathon voiced an understatement, smirking to himself.

Shawn frowned. "Why not? Everyone loves you."

And then Jonathon was beginning to see it. Shawn saw him as a good guy, someone he could depend on, a friend, a mentor. What would this impressionable teenager think, knowing that everyone else thinks he's some kind of creep. Jonathon worded his response carefully. "They're suspicious about some things. Nothing to worry about."

"Well, what things?" Shawn crossed his arms. "Are you telling me they don't believe me?"

Now Jonathon understood completely. _Nothing good ever comes from the truth. I'm never telling it again! _"No, they believe you, Shawn. They're just trying to protect you from too many people."

"Like you?"

"They're just being cautious." He said, finding himself defending them, despite his anger.

"Well, I'll tell them you're not. Is this really what happens when you ask cops for help? They ignore you?"

Jonathon put his hand on Shawn's shoulder. "No. No, they're listening to you, but they have to ask other questions, too. They want to make sure that they're going to help you in every way possible." As Jonathon said the words aloud, he was also assuring himself. He suddenly wasn't as angry at Nicky for barging in and accusing him. He was feeling a bit appreciative toward him for caring enough for the kid.

Shawn rolled his eyes, clearly not wanting to hear another person tell him "it's for the best. It's for your safety."

"Don't be mad at 'em, Hunter. They told me they've got guys out looking for your dad."

Shawn ignored him. "They think you're the one who hit me? That doesn't even make any sense. These scars are healing. There'd be new ones. There'd be…Wait! They're out looking for him?"

Jonathon wanted to smile but he didn't know if that would be appropriate. "Yeah, they think they're narrowing down on him."

"Is that what they told you on the phone?"

Jonathon was livid after the two detectives had left. He was shaking so furiously, that he could barely dial the numbers into the phone. Never in his life had he been attacked like that. Never in his life had he ever been treated like such a lowlife. Never had he wanted to fight back so much. He hated that even for a moment he had looked guilty. He would never in a million years lay a finger on a child. Sure, Shawn had a way of getting under his skin sometimes, but Jonathon never even considered that hitting him might be a solution. He'd never. Not that or anything else they might've been suspecting that Jonathon couldn't even tolerate to think about.

Jonathon had every intention of making a scene over the phone. He had the Lieutenant on the other end and he was riled up enough to really do some damage. But Shawn was standing there, his face tear streaked, watching him with absolute trust. And then, suddenly, his own justice didn't mean anything to him anymore. He went into his bedroom, calmly explained the situation, and when he returned he wasn't shaking anymore. He was feeling ten years older and about a hundred years wiser, however.

"Yeah, they did, buddy. They've got a lot of people working your case." A major benefit of making that call was that now the department was surely responsible for making amends for Detective Adams' and Nash's misconduct. The Lieutenant had assured him that they would do everything they could and they would find Chet Hunter and bring him to justice, mark her words.

Shawn was looking sick. Jonathon wasn't expecting him to be happy, but he wasn't expecting another blowout either.

"This is a good thing." He reminded him before Shawn could react.

"What will happen to him? I'm never gonna see him again, am I?"

Jonathon sighed, wondering what cliché would be best to use. "This isn't the end. This is a new beginning." _Nice, Jon! Nice. _"You can visit him whenever you want."

"In jail," Shawn said, dissatisfied.

"Maybe." _Better bloody well be! _"But it won't be forever. I see this helping your relationship, Shawn, not hurting it." Jonathon wasn't sure if he even believed himself. It wasn't like he had much experience with abusive relationships or the law or parole. All he knew was that until Chet had been through all that, he didn't even deserve the chance to look at the boy.


	18. Chapter 18

**SPOILER ALERT!** IF SOME OF YOU NEVER WATCHED THE ENTIRE SERIES OF BOY MEETS WORLD AND WOULD LIKE TO STILL, STOP READING HERE! I HAD TO INCLUDE SOME THINGS THAT ACTUALLY DIDN'T OCCUR UNTIL LATER, BUT I THOUGHT IT WOULD MAKE A LOT OF SENSE,…EVEN IF SOMETIMES THE PLOT OF THE SHOW DIDN'T.

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Virna was a terrible cook. She never made a dish that turned out right or tasted like it was meant to be food, but she kept on cooking anyways. Her mother always told her that practice makes perfect. Well, Virna guessed that she must have had the practice of 100 Olympians and still she was no good at cooking. But she liked it and no amount of criticism could tear her away from the kitchen.

Virna received a whole lot of criticism from Shawn. Shawn was the pickiest eater growing up that she figured that, when he hit puberty, he would stop coming home for meals and fill his raging appetite somewhere else. Instead, he just became less picky which was something that Virna was rooting against.

It's not that she didn't enjoy her son's company. She could take the criticism. She was married to Chet Hunter for goodness sake! No, it had nothing to do with Shawn and everything to do with Chet, Chet and Shawn, Chet and that God forsaken bottle.

She could recall numerous occasions where she feared for that boy's life. Every time she and Chet got into a spat, Chet would take it all out on Shawn. He'd yell at him, call him names, hit him. She couldn't tolerate just standing by doing nothing, but she couldn't do much about it either. Chet was big and strong. Bigger and stronger than both she and Shawn and there was no reasoning with him when he was drunk. All she could do was wait until he sobered up again and try to talk to him about it then.

Sometimes Virna wondered if Chet got off hurting his son. That sweet, innocent child found himself in his father's rough hands far more frequently than necessary. _Necessary. _That was Chet's favourite word, not hers. All the times he'd grab Shawn by the scruff of the neck, drag him around, yelling and cursing at him, belt him for the slightest infractions, cuff him over the head; Chet would always find some sort of reason to do it and Shawn would be convinced that he deserved it. After, Chet would storm out, leaving Virna to clean up the mess of the room and of Shawn.

At ten years old, she found Shawn lingering in the doorway of his bedroom. It was past his bedtime and he was supposed to be asleep, but that never stopped him before. There was something bothering him. She could tell by the way he watched her, like he was too afraid to say something, unsure if he should speak up at all.

"What's the matter, baby?" Virna asked, without looking at him. She didn't really want to hear what was on his mind, because it was most likely on her mind already.

Shawn was startled. "Um, uh...nothin'," He answered, but didn't move.

Virna, who was trying to patch up a pair of Shawn's jeans, took a deep breath and looked at the skinny boy in front of her. There was a bruise on his cheek, but Virna was just going to pretend it was from little league. Virna heard him gasp and realized that Shawn had started to cry. She held out her arms, dropping the pants to the floor, as Shawn crawled into her lap. "Shhh. Now, now darling." She said softly, petting his hair. "Your mama's got ya. Don't cry."

He buried his face in her chest as he sobbed, mumbling something that Virna couldn't understand.

She took her time asking him what he was saying though, hoping he wouldn't want to tell her.

"Why doesn't he love me?" He finally lifted his head and stared deeply into her eyes. He wanted to know so desperately what he was doing wrong. He was willing to do anything to earn that man's approval.

"Now what would make you say a thing like that, Shawn?" Virna knew no better than to play dumb.

He sniffled. "He calls me a… a—"

Virna shushed him. "Your daddy uses some cruel talk sometimes, but there's no reason for gentlemen like you to repeat it."

"But why—?"

"Now, you know why, Shawn. We've been through this before." She reminded him. "He loves you no matter what he says or does. Your daddy's not your daddy when he does that stuff, honey."

She would hold him for hours until he fell asleep in her arms. She'd rock him and sing to him, meanwhile searching for a way to make up for the love he wasn't receiving from his father. There wasn't one. She would carry him back to his bed, tuck him in, kiss him, and then wonder what level of drunk one would have to be to want to hurt such a sweet little boy.

This went on for years, sometimes multiple times a week. She'd sit up as long as she could waiting for her husband to come home just so she could yell at him, but getting upset every time took everything out of her. She'd try not to let it bother her, she'd try to pretend it didn't happen, but despite all of her best efforts she couldn't ignore that little boy's cries.

_"One night, Chet! Just one night!"_ She'd holler at him, feeling her face redden like a ripened tomato. _"Just be here for him, talk to him, don't make me conjure up some bull story about why you're not! Don't call him things just for being in your way! He's your son. He's yours!"_

But he would never listen and he would never heed her advice. The only action he ever took was further punishment when she let slip that Shawn was weak.

"_You're not the one up half the night, holding him while he cries! You're just the one making everything worse!" _

She was quite sure that Shawn had never forgiven her for selling him out, like that was what she had even done. It seemed ludicrous to even see it that way. Her intentions were to make Chet feel guilty, not outraged. To open his eyes, not his fists. To soften his heart, not turn it to stone. She failed, but most of all she failed at being a good mother. She couldn't help but think that each night she spent lying beside Chet Hunter was another grain of her good sense slipping through the neck of the hourglass. Her time was slipping away along with her humanity, her sanity, her life.

Virna looked around the tiny apartment, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she did so. The woman that appeared was worn out and broken. She had dark circles under her eyes; tight, wrinkled skin; a sick, fragile looking frame; and long washed out hair that hung in her face. She was a mess. She was a disaster. But she was changing. She was letting go of her life and starting new. That life was never meant to be hers. She was never meant to be a mom. She wasn't a mom.

There were no toys to clean up and no one to cook for in this new life. There were no brawls to break up. There was no screaming she had to hear or do. There was no pain. There were no broken bones, blood, or broken hearts. There was no one to answer to, no rules to follow, no questionable rules to enforce, no person to worry about, and no one to wish for a concerned thought to pass through their mind about her. There were, however, still tears, but she would cry them to remember that she was still alive. That she survived and she took from it a lesson she would never forget. No amount of sympathy can make a person love another and no amount of love can make a person have sympathy for another.

Virna would tell herself that she wasn't being selfish. She would tell herself that she was in the right. She loved what love had given her: the chance to meet someone who knew how to do it right. She stuck around long enough to see that he would be better than his father and he certainly already was. She would remember Shawn for the rest of her life. He was better than her and he didn't need her help. There was nothing more Virna could teach him, because she had never learned how to love like that. She tried to shield him from his life, but only brought on more pain. She tried to give him a better life, but mud and soil are still dirt. She wasn't capable. She wasn't responsible. She wasn't his blood. She wasn't his protector. She wasn't his mother. She wasn't Chet.

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_I want to give special thanks to those of you who have reviewed. Your support inspires me to continue this story and writing in general. I love to write and I have been doing it since I was a little kid. I only intended on making this story a one-shot, one chapter fanfiction, all due to my obsession with the inspiring relationship between Shawn and Jonathon (yes, I realize I have been spelling his name wrong: Jonath"a"n), but here I am, 18 __**short**__ chapters deep (sorry but you'll have to suck it up, guys. I'm a busy girl!). Thanks so so so so much for reading! And thanks for inspiring me to continue. If I ever make it big, I'll have fanfiction and all of your cute pen names to thank! ;) _


	19. Chapter 19

OKAY, SO I KNOW IT'S BEEN FOREVER SINCE I'VE UPDATED, BUT I'VE BEEN EXTREMELY BUSY WITH SCHOOL. I BARELY HAVE TIME TO SLEEP THESE DAYS, LET ALONE WRITE FOR PLEASURE. ANYWAYS, I MANAGED TO GET THIS DONE, SO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE :)

* * *

Virna was alarmed by a knock at the door at such an ungodly hour. She was still in her bed, although she'd been awake for hours. She thought that maybe she was imagining it. That maybe if she ignored it, then she wouldn't have to get out of her warm bed. But to her dismay, the knocking didn't cease. Rather, it grew louder and louder the more pillows she piled over her face.

She groaned as she rolled herself into a sitting position, her legs dangling over the side of the bed. "Good heavens! Where's the damned fire?!" She shuffled across the carpet and swung open the door, angrily.

There he was. He looked thinner and his hair was shorter, but it was him. He was glistening from perspiration and smelling of it, as well. His clothes were wrinkled, like they hadn't been changed in days and his breath's foul odour wreaked on her from feet away. "Virna!" He exclaimed, flashing a toothy grin.

"Chet, I told you to stop following me!" She was more annoyed than she was tired and, boy, was she tired. She pushed the door, anticipating a loud slam in her husband's face that never came.

Chet had stuck his foot in the door and forced it open before she could fasten the chain. "My lovely, Virna, I would follow you even if you were diseased."

"Well that's romantic." Virna mumbled, knowing Chet wouldn't pick up on her sarcasm.

"Come home with me."

Virna looked at him long and hard. "Chet, you have a little boy back in Philly waiting on you. So tell me, what on earth are you doing here?"

Chet's face fell, resembling that of a child's. He was a lot like a child when it came to love. It took a lot more than a valentine to show someone that you care about them and he had yet to realize that. "I'm here to bring you back home! So we can be a family!"

"You don't know what a family is, Chet! A family is a mama and a daddy and their love! You have to learn how to be Shawn's dad to be a family!"

He pounded his fist against the doorframe. "I am Shawnee's dad! And you're his mom, so let's go!"

"Having a little boy doesn't make you a parent. It doesn't make you good. I can't be his mom anymore. He doesn't need me, he needs you! You're _his_!"

Chet growled. "He doesn't know that! You didn't go tellin' him, did ya?"

"No, but he knows this ain't right! He wants you more than anything in this world! He loves you more than he loves himself! Chet, do you know how lucky you are?" Virna was yelling now, but she didn't care. She wanted everyone in that hallway to know that Shawn Hunter needed a good dad. Maybe then they could get it through Chet's thick skull.

He pushed passed her and sat down on her unmade bed, the springs squeaking beneath his weight. He covered his face with his hands, after a few minutes, rubbed his eyes and looked at her through what appeared to be tears. "I hurt him bad, baby." His lips trembled in a way that looked familiar to Virna.

Virna closed the door and moved across the room to stand in front of him. "You're a monster to him." She agreed, having not an ounce of sympathy for her husband.

His large frame shook, as he wept openly. Something she had never seen this strong Texas man do. "There was blood and glass. He was cryin' for me and I just… I was makin' him hurt! I did it! I kept tellin' myself it wasn't me! It was so easy to pretend, but I got so… so…"

Virna gritted her teeth. "You don't get to make excuses! You are a coward and bully, Chet Hunter, and you'll be one until you own up to what you've done!"

Chet raised his glance slowly. "Will ya come with me?"

"This is over, no matter what." She sat down on the bed beside him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "But you knew that when you came here, didn't you?"

His lips began to tremble again and Virna realized that they were like Shawn's. Like Shawn's beautiful, full lips: a pout so irresistible, so easy to fall for, so easy to fall into. He raised his fingers and gently caressed her cheek. "I'm not a good man. I hurt everyone I care about." He dropped his hand back into his lap, clenching and unclenching his fists as he studied them. "Why does he still love me?"

Virna was also watching his big, thick hands form into weapons: weapons that had been used against Shawn on almost every day of his existence. She raised her gaze and stared into his big blue eyes, searching. She was searching for the monster she had convicted him of being. But the monster was nowhere to be found, for here in front of her sat Shawn's father. "He's amazing." Was all she could come up with. Shawn _was_ amazing.

Chet wiped his face on his sleeve and then stood up, adjusting his pants over his large belly. "He is. He's better off without the both of us, then."

Virna jumped up, furiously. "No! He needs you! He needs you more than you need him! He watches over you sleeping just like you when you watched over him in his crib or when he had the measles, or when he said he was gonna run away. He cleaned up after you and flushed your liquor down the drain because he wanted you to stay with him. So where is he now, Chet? What's that boy up to now, besides being nothing but loyal to you? Go make things right! Go be a man for the first time in your life! He doesn't want a good dad. He only needs one. All he wants is you."

Chet wiped his eyes one last time, nodded at his wife, then turned away toward the door. "Goodbye, Virna. Forever." He added, something she thought she would never hear him say. Something she thought he would never agree to.

He reached his hand for the doorknob, but before he could make contact with the metal handle, the door forced inwards, swinging and hitting the wall with a loud, denting bang. Four men dressed in blue uniforms, holding guns, yelling words that made no sense, kicked in the door.

Virna found herself cowering against the far wall, or had she been instructed to do so? Why were they searching her things? Why were they patting her down? Why were they taking her husband away in handcuffs?

"Chet Hunter, you are under arrest for the abuse of Shawn Hunter. You have the right to remain silent; anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

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_LOOK FORWARD TO A SPECIAL HALLOWEEN BOY MEETS WORLD TRIBUTE! SHAWN'S NEVER BEEN MORE SCARED AND IT'S A SPOOKY TIME OF YEARRR! MUAHAHAHAHA… I'LL DO MY BEST TO POST IT ON WEDNESDAY, BUT IN CASE I CAN'T… HAPPY HALLOWEEN!_


	20. Chapter 20

SO I DID IT! SORRY I DIDN'T GET A CHANCE TO POST SOONER, BUT IT STILL COUNTS AS HALLOWEEN IN MY TIME ZONE HAHA. HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS ONE ANYWAYS SO I HOPE YOU ENJOYYYY… MUAHAHAHA

October 31st, 1995 was just like October 30th, 1995 for Shawn, anyway. He was still grounded for he and Cory's fire incident in the chemistry lab, leaving him with nothing to do that Halloween but watch 'Nightmare on Elm Street' for the umpteenth time. Jonathon wasn't backing down on his punishment, despite all the drama that was tearing at the seams of his sanity. He seemed determined to keep him off the streets and out of trouble, but what was he afraid of? That Shawn would kill somebody?

Shawn would find it unfair to keep a teenage guy in on Halloween on any circumstance. Why did Jonathon have to choose now to become a hard ass? Given everything that was happening in his life, all Shawn wanted was to get out of that tiny apartment and egg someone's car or teepee someone's house. He owed him that much, Shawn told himself, as he left for school that morning with no intentions of returning while it was still Halloween.

As he neared John Adams High, Shawn contemplated ditching his classes all together. He wouldn't be the only kid taking a "sick" day on the sickest day of the year. But then again, not every kid had the English teacher for a guardian.

The walk to school wasn't far, but it was when Shawn turned down all the wrong streets. He wasn't heading to John Adams anymore. Now he was headed straight for the Pink Flamingo Trailer Park. As he climbed over the chain link fence, a shortcut he always took on his way home from Cory's, he couldn't help but feel reminiscent. He could see the tire marks in the ground from where his family's trailer used to be, just a mile away. If he closed his eyes he could pretend it was still there and he was just on his way home from Cory's as per usual. All he needed was…

"Well, what do ya know? It's Shawnee boy, back from his good ol suburban life!" Eddie hopped down from a tree landing inches away from Shawn, causing him to jump back. He grinned broadly at his half-brother's reaction, passing an apple from hand to hand. "I guess that means ya missed me."

Shawn glared at him. "The only time I ever missed you was with a bat."

The grin fell from Eddie's face faster than his apple hit the ground. "Ohh, well ain't you a tough one. Where's all this comin' from, Shawnee? We all know you're the bitch of the family, just like mom. "

That one stung. Shawn didn't believe in bad mouthing women. Virna had taught him that. She taught him how to not be like his father or like her son, Eddie. God knew it was too late for that guy to pick up some decency. "Shut up." He warned, gritting his teeth together.

"Ohhh, hit a nerve, eh?" He grabbed the collar of Shawn's shirt and folded it downwards, opposite to how Shawn liked to wear it. "You ain't tough, boy. You can't do nothin' about it."

"Don't touch me!" Shawn yelled, viciously shoving his hands away.

The grin on Eddie's face reappeared. "You hear that boys?"

Just as he called, three guys rounded the corner of the nearest trailer and encircled Shawn, as he was cornered between them and the fence.

"No respect for his big brother! Now I told him next time I seen him I was gonna teach him a lesson. A promise is a promise, ain't it?" Eddie reached for him and grabbed Shawn's neck in his large hand. He had a tight, painful grip on him that forced his head up in such a way that Shawn hadn't a choice but to stare him in the face. "You said something about a…a…" He snapped his fingers on his other hand thrice, as if trying to remember something. "A bat! Didn't ya, babe?"

"No, no I didn't." Shawn said quickly, wishing more than anything that he had just gone to homeroom.

Eddie turned to the others. "I'm tellin' ya, fellas, he said he wants the bat."

Shawn was trying his hardest to free himself from Eddie's grip, to no prevail. He could hardly shift his weight from foot to foot. Instead of helplessly prying at the older guy's fingers, he decided to play it cool; to take it like his father taught him to take it. That would be the one good thing about today, he decided. He would close his eyes and pretend that it was his dad pounding into him, instead of his good-for-nothing half-brother.

Shawn reached his hands into his pockets, preparing to be as resilient as possible. As his fingers slipped into the usual holes in the lining of his pockets, something cold brushed across his right thumb. It was long and thick, and felt like it was made of some kind of metal. Shawn grasped it and pulled it from his pocket, fingering the red symbol in amazement. He didn't know where the Swiss army knife had come from, but it was no coincidence that he had found it.

He flicked it open and a sharp blade extended which he swiped across the bulging veins of Eddie's wrist.

Eddie yelled in pain, throwing his other fist forward but missing Shawn's head by an inch. "What the hell, man?" He backed away, clutching his wrist, blood running down his forearm.

The other guys turned on their heels and were a half mile away by the time Eddie took his next step.

"I'm gonna bleed out, Shawn! Whoa! Whatcha doin'?"

Shawn was edging closer and closer, his mind so far away, his emotions leading him. Shawn felt nothing but eagerness. The overwhelming feeling almost promised him that his actions would make him happy. He lunged forward, tackling Eddie to the ground with a loud grunt. He wasted no time. He knew what he wanted. He wanted to see red come from someone else for a change. He pressed the blade against Eddie's throat and slid it across inch by inch. The red was everywhere: the blood was running everywhere. Eddie's eyes were wide and soon Shawn realized that they were also lifeless.

He grabbed a handful of Eddie's shirt and wiped the knife clean before he closed it. Jumping to his feet, he could feel eyes on him. He needed to get out of there. He hopped the fence and ran. He didn't look back, he just ran, gripping the knife tightly in his fist like it was the only thing keeping him from reality.

After several blocks, Shawn finally slowed to a walking pace, not daring to stop or look behind him. What if someone had seen him? What if they were following him? These questions filled his head, leaving no room for the obvious: What have I done?

His feet took him to John Adams, more specifically to his locker, where he finally let himself examine his surroundings. He was paranoid. He was terrified that someone knew where he'd been and what he'd done. He was out of breath, covered in sweat, and he feared that it would be written on his face: I killed my brother.

"Shawn!"

He jumped three feet back, dropping his books on his toe. "Wh-what?"

Cory chuckled. "You missed Turner's wipeout! Man, you should've been there! He fell right off the desk. It was hysterical!"

Shawn crouched down, slowly stacking his books in front of him. Cory didn't seem to notice anything. Maybe he was safe.

"Hey, what's that?"

Shawn looked up quickly, following Cory's finger which pointed at the Swiss army knife still wedged in his locked fist. "Nothin'. Uh… I found it."

"Cool." Cory reached for it, but Shawn jolted his arm back and hurriedly stuffed it in his pocket.

"So he fell off his desk, huh?" Shawn's voice shook with nervousness and it was higher pitched than usual. He coughed, hoping to feign a cold instead of hinting at secrecy.

Cory eyed him, suspiciously, but said nothing about his strange attitude. "Yeah, it was great! Oh and he told me to tell you you're dead."

Shawn gasped. "What? Why? Why would he s-say that?"

Cory frowned. "'Cause you skipped his class. Are you guys in a fight or something?"

He exhaled. "Oh, um no."

Cory threw his backpack in his locker and slammed it shut. Instead of walking off to the cafeteria like Shawn was banking on, he leaned against the wall and waited for him. "So then, where were you?"

Shawn thought for a moment. "I was…um…I was in bed. I mean, I slept in."

"Turner said he saw you leave. You said you were going to my house? Shawn, I'll cover for you, but you gotta let me know when you want me to."

"Oh yeah, sorry about that, I just uh… I went back to bed after he left. You know, I was out really late last night."

Cory narrowed his eyes. "I thought you were grounded."

"Yeah…Jon doesn't know."

Cory laughed, finally ending his interrogation. "Well, you beat me then. I spent the night staring at the phone waiting for Topanga to call. And get this…Eric took the message at 3:30 and never told me!"

Shawn wanted more than anything to slip off by himself for a while, go home to the apartment, and just get back in his bed. However, he knew that it was best that he was at school where people could see him and place him, if questioned, far away from the crime scene. It was bad enough that Jon was already on his case. The last thing he needed was someone suspicious of him.

There was ten minutes left of lunch when Shawn finally got away from Cory. He told him he was going to find Turner to set things straight, the only thing he could think of to tell Cory so he wouldn't try to tag along. He needed to be by himself. He needed to think. He couldn't wrap his head around what he had done. He killed Eddie. Eddie was dead. He did it.

Shawn turned down the main hallway, but dove back against the perpendicular wall when he spotted Jonathon exiting the staff room. He could hear footsteps coming closer and closer to his hiding spot, so Shawn took a chance and bolted down the narrow corridor taking turns that he hoped Jonathon would never make.

As he rounded another corner, he glanced over his shoulder, running full force into something hard. He stumbled, catching his balance on the edge of the drinking fountain.

"Ow! What are you doing, you psychopath! Shawn?" It was Minkus laying on the floor, readjusting his glasses.

"Minkus?" Shawn almost laughed.

"What do you think you're doing? There is no running in the halls! I'm tired of putting up with you careless delinquents!"

"What did you just say?"

"I said!" Minkus stood up, but as he did so Shawn stepped up close, letting the six inches he had on him intimidate him. "I'm not scared of you, Shawn Hunter! I heard Harley Kiner scared you out of your bullying days! Not to mention, you live with Mr. Turner. It wouldn't take long—"

"SHUT UP!" Shawn roared. A funny sensation filled him and he realized he could turn him off. He didn't have to listen to Minkus belittle him like he had every day since the 6th grade. He didn't have to hear about how he was a low life and was never going to amount to anything worth a dime. He didn't have to stomach his nauseating perfection.

He stuck his fingers in his pocket and pulled out the knife. Behind his back, he opened it, while he backed Minkus up against the wall. "You should be afraid of me." Shawn heard himself say, as he slit Minkus' small, pale throat.

He slid down the wall, clutching his neck, blood quickly forming in a puddle around him.

Shawn stepped back, realizing what he had done. He needed to get out of there.

He ran back in the direction that he had come, shoving the knife in his pants, his hands shaking. He slowed, his breath heavy, when the bell rang, marking the beginning of next period. He followed the crowd of people in front of him. They seemed to know where they were going. He could hide amongst them for the time being, but after a couple minutes the hallways would clear again as everyone got settled in their classrooms.

He followed a group of sophomore boys until they took a right turn and began filing into Turner's class. Shawn made a quick break for the bathroom, hoping for a chance at solitude, with no luck. As he stumbled through the swinging door, he almost turned and ran right back out. Actually, the only thing stopping him from doing so was the fact that Frankie Stechino had grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in real close.

"Just in time!" A sick smile spread across Frankie's fat face. "It's swirly time, my friend."

On any other day Shawn would be panicked, fearful, desperate. He'd be trying to sweet talk his way out of the situation, but not today. Today Shawn couldn't care less, because Shawn was unstoppable today. "You don't want to do that." He warned, his eyes on Frankie's large hand, which was still gripping his arm.

Frankie chuckled. "Oh, how I laugh as you tell me that I do not want something when you are oh so mistaken."

"You've got two seconds to get your hand off me."

Frankie looked entertained. Instead of letting go, he seized the upper part of Shawn's other arm.

"Perfect." Shawn grinned, as he forced the long blade of his knife into Frankie's chest.

He coughed and spluttered, falling into a stall and landing on his back upon the toilet.

Shawn yanked the knife from his chest, collapsing the device and stuffing it back into his pocket. He backed out of the stall, leaving the older boy alone to breathe his dying breath. The stall door swung closed and Shawn headed for the door. He needed to get out of there.

He made a run for the nearest staircase and flew out the side door into the streets. There wasn't anybody around, which was a bit eerie, but Shawn wasn't complaining. He had just killed three people. He couldn't risk having anyone see him.

Shawn found himself at the bus stop. It had just arrived and seemed like the quickest way of making himself scarce. He had exact change in his pocket and the bus was empty. He sat at the back, keeping his head down and his face hidden. His luck was improving for the first time in his life.

He didn't know where this bus was headed or if it would even take him home. After ten minutes, the bus had taken him through a set of streets that he didn't recognize. He was lost.

There was a lady sitting across from him, so he decided to ask her for help. When he cleared his throat, she looked up at him and Shawn was speechless. He hadn't expected to see someone that he recognized. He hadn't expected to see this someone ever again, but a panicked feeling overcame him and his hand went straight for his pocket. "Mom?"

She smiled at him, but didn't say a word. Virna was in Philadelphia? Virna was here all along, while his father was out looking for her across the state?

He was so angry, he didn't have time to hesitate. He took out the knife, which was still covered in blood, and not unlike he did to Frankie, he stabbed his mother. He did it over and over. He couldn't stop. He couldn't see through the tears that filled his eyes. She had hurt him so much. She ruined his life, literally. She had to have known that Chet loved her more than Shawn. But she didn't care. She left him, she left Shawn, and she couldn't care less what Chet did to Shawn in or without her presence.

She was dead after the sixth time, but Shawn didn't stop until he got past thirty. He stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. There was no one around to see him, but there was a bus driver. What if he had heard something? What if he came back to see? He needed to get out of there.

Glancing out the window, Shawn realized that the bus had just pulled up to the stop that was just two blocks away from Turner's apartment. He hurried off and ran the distance until he saw the familiar looking building. He could get in his bed once he got there. He could close his eyes and pretend the day had never happened.

When he got to the apartment, the door was unlocked. He walked in and tossed his jacket on the couch, hoping Jon had just forgotten to lock it. He went from room to room, searching for him. Jonathon's bedroom was dark and the door was open, but there was something large sprawled across the bed. With shaking hands, Shawn reached for the light switch, and flicked it on.

In a second he saw and in a second he wished he hadn't. It was Jonathon on the bed. It was most of Jonathon, at least, Shawn guessed. He wasn't attached anymore. That is, Jonathon's pieces were not attached anymore. His legs had been chopped into three pieces, one cut at the ankle, the other at the knee, the other at the groin. Next were his torso, his arms, his hands, and his head all swimming in the blood that soaked the bed spread. There was so much of it that from the corner of the blanket, it dripped slowly but steadily, forming a puddle of thick, red liquid onto the floor.

"Jon? Jon! No! NOOOO! H-howw?" Shawn struggled with the question, through his trembling lips, he wailed. He lifted his right hand to wipe at his eyes and stopped when he noticed the Swiss army knife that he was still holding, dripping with blood. He glanced at his left and saw something more shocking. His left hand was clutching the bloody handle of a large butcher knife, which was so covered in blood that it was dripping down his forearm. The blood was everywhere. Jonathon was dead. But how?

Shawn glanced up, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. There was blood on his face. No. There was blood dripping down his face. He was crying, but he wasn't crying tears. He was crying blood. He was a monster. He was a killer. He killed Jonathon. Shawn shook his head. No, he hadn't just killed Jonathon. He killed Frankie, and Minkus, and his mother, and his brother.

He fell to his knees, letting the knives drop from his hands. "I'm sorry!" He yelled, unsure of who exactly he was apologizing to. "I'm sorry! I didn't wanna be so messed up! I didn't! You hurt me! You made me this way!" He looked at Jonathon's dismembered body and couldn't do anything but cry. He had loved him. He was the only one who was there for him. "Nooo! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Come back! Come back! I didn't mean it! NOOO!"

With a jolt, Shawn sat up. Shawn woke up. He was dreaming. It had all been a dream. A terrible, terrible dream. He hadn't killed anyone. He was safe and sound. He wasn't a monster. He jumped out of his bed and swiped his hand across the back of his damp neck, trying to calm himself. He crossed the hall into Jonathon's room and whispered: "Jon? Jon, wake up." He moved closer, but it didn't appear that Jonathon was sleeping on the side that he usually did. He felt for the lamp on Jon's bedside table and when he found it, he flicked it on.

It wasn't a dream. Jonathon's positioning hadn't moved. He was dead and his body was in pieces. Pieces, just like Shawn's mind was in. Jonathon's head suddenly fell over so that it was facing him; his eyes were open and stared at him. They looked at him, they looked at the knives that lay beside his head, and then they looked back at him. Shawn was a coldblooded monster.

He stepped back and then he just kept on backing up. He was shaking his head, in denial. "No. NO!" And then he started to scream. At the top of his lungs, he screamed until he felt two warm hands cradle his face and force his eyes open.

The two hands, as he realized, belonged to Jonathon. Shawn grabbed them and, too afraid to look, he followed the hands up, feeling his wrists, his forearms, his elbows. He opened his eyes. They were attached. Jonathon's limbs were fully intact.

"Shawn, are you awake?" Jonathon asked softly, holding a washcloth to Shawn's forehead, carefully dabbing it about his face.

Shawn nodded, though he was not entirely sure. He looked down, realizing that he was not in his bed. He was sitting on the kitchen counter. One of Jonathon's hands was holding him upright, leading Shawn to believe that this nightmare in particular had led Jonathon to take drastic measures.

"What in hell were you dreaming about?" Jonathon shook his head, as if unable to imagine it for himself.

Shawn grabbed Jonathon's hand and pulled it away from his face. He looked at it for a long moment before he spoke. "Jon, am I gonna be okay?"

Jonathon didn't say anything. He wrapped the boy in his arms tightly, holding him while he shook.

Maybe he wasn't going to be alright, Shawn thought, as he buried his face in Jon's shoulder. Maybe he really was torn apart by all of the people who hurt him and abandoned him throughout his life. But as he began to relax and let Jonathon comfort him, he thought that maybe it was time that he stopped obsessing over those who hurt him and start appreciating those who actually cared for him. It was about time someone took care of him for a change.

MUAHAHAHA! I WONDER HOW MANY OF YOU THOUGHT I WAS MAKING SHAWN A MURDERER. HOPE YOU LIKED THIS HALLOWEEN SPECIAL. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT, PLEASE! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! By the way, don't count on future chapters being this long. I just got really into this and didn't want to cut it short. I only had one opportunity to make Shawn a killer! Or do I? ;)


	21. Chapter 21

Jonathon was used to being awake at such a late hour. He guessed that he could probably consider the hour early since it was already a quarter past three. He hadn't managed to get in a wink of sleep, because he knew it was coming. He knew he'd hear the screaming, the crying, which would send him gasping as he jumped out of bed. He couldn't seem to get used to it, like an alarm clock on full sound. He couldn't get used to his heart skipping a beat and, even though he knew Shawn was dreaming, each time he rushed to him praying he was alright.

Tonight, however, was different from the rest. It wasn't just Halloween night, there was something off. As his bare feet prodded across the cold floor, his heart pounded like he had just run a marathon. He wasn't sure what the kid was doing, but it was much worse than screaming in the middle of the night.

"Jon? Jon! No! NOOOO! H-howw?" And there it was.

Jonathon hurried into Shawn's room but found his door wide open and his bed empty. "Shawn? Where are you, Hunter?" The first thought in Jonathon's mind was the worst case scenario. What if someone had come in? What if he was seriously hurt?

He turned back into the living room and switched on the lights. Jonathon almost screamed himself, because as much as he was hoping that he would find Shawn there, he hadn't expected to find him like he just had.

Shawn was in the kitchen, his back to Jonathon, and he was holding his arms up over his head. In his hands, he held two butcher knives that he had retrieved from the block. His whole body was quivering. "I'm sorry!" He turned to face him, his eyes shut tightly. "I'm sorry! I didn't wanna be so messed up! I didn't! You hurt me! You made me this way!"

Jonathon ran to him, trying to ignore the fact that his words were making a little bit of sense. What if he weren't dreaming? What if he were trying to hurt himself? Jonathon grabbed Shawn's wrists and lowered his arms slowly. "Shawn? Shawn, it's me. Open your eyes, buddy." He removed the knives from Shawn's hands with ease, as his grip around them was loose like he were about to drop them.

"Nooo!" Shawn started to yell again.

Jonathon was trying to wake him, but tonight was worse than all the others.

Shawn was paler than a ghost, he was soaked in sweat, and he was shaking so violently that his teeth were chattering. There was no consoling him. He was so far gone, Jonathon wondered if he was fevered.

"Shawn, look at me! Look at me!" He had his hands on his shoulders, wishing he could just shake the boy back to reality. Instead, he put his hands beneath his arms and lifted him onto the countertop. Jonathon stood facing him, Shawn's legs dangling as he sat in front of him. He kept a hand on his shoulder to ensure he didn't fall, but there was no gentle hand protecting him from the hell his subconscious was conjuring.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Come back! Come back! I didn't mean it! NOOO!"

"Shhh…" Jonathon soothed, trying to stay calm himself. He grabbed a towel from the drawer in front of him and soaked it beneath the tap in cool water. He held it to Shawn's cheek, wishing he knew what to do. "Come on, baby, wake up!" He pushed his hair back, placing the cloth over the boy's already damp forehead. "If I ever see your father again, I swear I'll rip his heart right out of his chest. You're just a boy." He told him, though the promise was more to himself than to anyone else.

* * *

"Mr. Hunter!" Mr. Feeny's voice rang in Shawn's ears, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

Shawn looked around. "What'd I do?"

Cory snorted with laughter, slapping Shawn's desk loudly, causing him to jump. "Mr. Feeny, I said that, not Shawn."

Mr. Feeny waved his hand in the air, dismissing him. "Yes, well, what's the difference?"

Shawn grinned. "Allow me." He stood up and held out his hands, ensuring he had the class' attention. "Shawn." He flicked his hair back, dramatically, with his hand smoothing over the right side. "And Cory." He patted his tight curls, a show of several shades of red spreading over his friend's face.

A few girls giggled, but Shawn silenced them with his held up hand. "No, no ladies. It's soft…like a poodle!" He petted him, until Cory smacked his hand away.

"Mr. Hunter, stop interrupting my class with your ravishing good looks!" Cory mocked, with a phony British accent.

"Oh, my apologies, Mr. Feeny! I was just so distracted by your ravishing beauty that I had to cause a ruckus to control myself. The floor is yours, monsieur!" Shawn bowed lowly, then sat in his seat, pleased with the laughter of his classmates.

Cory snickered. "You're good, Mr. Feeny."

Mr. Feeny rolled his eyes. "Well, I am now, knowing that you two lunatics will be locked up in detention for the next week. Mr. Hunter I'm going to start charging you rent for that seat."

Shawn laughed along with everyone else in the room. He was feeling okay. He was feeling like it was a normal day. He was feeling like he hadn't just had a dream about killing five people the night before. "Bring in a laZ Boy and we'll talk!"

Mr. Feeny ignored him, clearly determined to return to his lecture. He opened his textbook, found the place in which he left off before the disturbance, and read: "Galileo Galili—"

"And another thing!"

"Mr. Matthews!"

"You got it right!" Cory grinned. "Why do we call Galileo by his first name? Everyone else we call by their last! Copernicus, Columbus, Bond! It's like calling him Bob!"

"If you don't close those lips of yours, Mr. Matthews, I—" His threat was interrupted by the liberating ring of the bell. Mr. Feeny slammed his book shut and sighed. "Class dismissed."

Shawn shoved his books into his bag rapidly, anticipating Feeny's next move, and trying to avoid it.

"Boys! Sit! Now!"

Cory spun on his heels to face Shawn and when their eyes met, each boy's jaw dropped and they screamed hysterically. "AHHHHHH!"

Feeny muttered. "Overdramatic fools."

"Hey, man, come on. You know we're just kidding around." Shawn said, sliding back into his seat behind Cory.

He frowned. "That's the problem, _man_. This isn't the sixth grade anymore. It's time to grow up and open a book!"

"What?!" Shawn gasped, not quite finished with the immaturity.

"Mr. Matthews, I'll see you at 3 o' clock. Mr. Hunter, stay a while."

Cory frowned, as he packed his things, and stalked slowly out into the hallway.

Shawn wasn't feeling upset or nervous, like he thought he ought to be feeling, but he was out of jokes at this point. "Sir?"

"You exhaust me, my boy. You exhaust me."

"What?"

"I'm the stand in principle. That's the only reason I don't send you to my office. A little redundant, don't you think?"

Shawn swallowed, pushing his hair behind his ear. "So you think I'm trouble?"

Mr. Feeny moved closer to him, but said nothing as if he were trying to choose the correct words.

Shawn didn't want to wait. "What else is new? So two more weeks' detention, whatever. Like you said I've got my own seat."

"Shawn, I think you're a bright young boy." He paused, watching Shawn intently. "Are you surprised to hear me say that?"

Shawn shrugged.

Mr. Feeny, however, smiled. "Well it's true. I just wish you saw that, Mr. Hunter. And maybe gave me that much credit, as well." He nodded at him. "You may go. I will see you at 3 o' clock."

Shawn swung his bag over his shoulder and hurried out of the classroom. If one other teacher reached out to him, he swore he was going to be sick all over their 'helping hands'. He wasn't a charity case. He was a Hunter. One teacher buddy was more than enough for Shawn.

The moment he stepped over the threshold into the hallway, Cory sped into him, a look of concern upon his face.

"Nothing happened, Cor." Shawn rolled his eyes, stepping around him to get to his locker.

Cory followed him, glancing over his shoulder. "No, did you tell Turner you got detention?"

"How would I have told him? It just happened."

Cory shrugged. "I don't know, but he just booked out of here like his Harley was on fire. He almost knocked over Danny Simpson too. Yeah, the quarterback!"

"Well, that's weird, because he has a class to teach."

"And he always offers you a ride home. Must be something serious."

Shawn grabbed his coat from his locker and didn't even bother to close it as he darted toward the nearest exit. Serious only meant one thing these days. And if it wasn't about Shawn then it could only be about one other person.


	22. Chapter 22

"My name is Jonathon Turner and I'm here to see Chet Hunter."

"Sir, I'm not telling you again. If you don't leave the premises within the next five seconds, I'll call security."

"You don't understand!" Jonathon exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the desk. "I need to see this guy. Please, bend the rules just this once."

The woman picked up a radio off her desk and Jonathon spun around quickly, not wanting to meet the Philadelphia Police Department's security team. He stormed down the hall toward the elevators, almost literally running into a tall man in a suit.

"Well isn't it Philadelphia's finest." Jonathon scoffed, looking the man up and down in disgust.

Detective Nicky Adams smirked at him. "Yeah, I thought I'd see you here. You're welcome, jack ass."

"I'm welcome? For which? Attacking me in my own home or emotionally scarring my kid?"

"How about for catching his father?" He held up his finger. "Wait a minute…_your_ kid? Well aren't you getting a little cozy. Don't think I've given up on this, Turner. I'm far from done with you."

Jonathon threw his arms up in the air, frustrated. "Me? Who the hell do you think I am? You have nothing on me. No reason to think any of this crap!"

"That's what you think. Wanna tell me what you're even doing here?" Nicky crossed his arms.

"Why are you even still on the case, anyway? The way your lieutenant was talking I thought you were going to be out of a job." Jonathon fired back.

"I'd kick your ass right now if we weren't in a police station." Nicky threatened under his breath.

Jonathon looked around. "What was that?" He said loud enough for others to hear. "You don't want anyone else to know that you're dirty?"

"Jonathon Turner?" A woman's voice called from behind him.

Jonathon spun around, caught off guard. "Yeah?"

A woman in blue uniform stood there before him. "You need to come with me."

He turned back to Nicky, confusedly, hating the smile that spread across the other man's face. He followed the officer, waiting until Nicky was out of earshot before he spoke: "Look, I meant no harm back there. I just really need to see someone." He tried to explain, a nervous feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.

She raised an eyebrow. "Sir, are you the parent or guardian of Shawn Hunter?"

"I am." He stopped in his tracks.

"We're going to need you to take him home. I don't know what kind of game you two are playing but neither of you is getting in to see Chet Hunter. We're not losing this case because this kid is pressured into changing his story."

"Excuse me? What are you talking about? Is he here?"

She glared at him. "Yes, and you know detective Adams is right. This really doesn't look good on you." She turned to walk away, but Jonathon wasn't finished with her.

"Do you have kids, officer?" He didn't wait for her reply. Judging by her baby face, he knew she was a rookie. "Yeah, neither did I. Then all of a sudden this kid needed my help and there didn't seem to be anywhere else for him to turn. So don't tell me how it looks. I don't care. I know how it feels having the weight of this kid's entire world on my shoulders and having everyone else trying to knock me down. First day of class I walked in and told them all that if they have a problem that they can come to me and I would do everything in my power to help them. I'm not going back on that. I can't."

She stared at him, obviously bewildered. After a few seconds she moved closer to him, while Jonathon thought she might walk off. "So then, what are you doing here?"

"I came to ask him a question."

"Bull shit! You came to beat up Chet Hunter and that's what tells me you're not putting Shawn first. Then what would've happened to Shawn?"

Jonathon shook as he prepared to retaliate. "No. I just had to see him!"

"You want to do that boy a favour?" She shook her head. "Don't even tempt yourself."

Jonathon had so many thoughts swimming around in his head, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He felt awake. So awake that he felt that for the past few weeks he had been sleepwalking. Like in that one moment he had just finally become a man. He had adult responsibilities and they were being thrown at him like a fast ball.

"Where's Shawn?"

"Follow me."

He hurried after her, regretting every choice he had made that day. He should never have left class. He should have stayed and taught and then went straight home. He should have left this alone, but his every fibre was screaming for the opportunity to get his hands on Chet.

He followed the woman through a door, which buzzed loudly when they approached it, and down a long hallway. It was dark, lighted solely by luminescent bulbs along the tall ceiling of the walkway. It took Jonathon several paces to realize that to his left and to his right were jail cells, several sleazy looking men decorating their capacity.

"I thought you said I couldn't see Chet," Jonathon said, his heart beginning to pound.

She didn't do so much as give him a glance over her shoulder until she stopped at the last cell at the end of the hallway. She slipped a set of keys out of her pocket, the jangling of metal hitting metal startling the figure who was laying on a cot, his back to she and Jonathon.

"Hunter." Her voice echoed and the dark figure rose, stumbled towards them, and appeared small and pale before the thick bars.

"Shawn?" Jonathon's jaw dropped. "You locked him up? What the hell are you thinking? What's wrong with you?"

She blushed, but continued to speak with authority. "I had no choice but to restrain him, Mr. Turner. I apologize that it had to come to this, but he turned violent and refused to settle down. I was following procedure."

Jonathon rubbed his eyes, hoping that when he reopened them he would be somewhere else. "Can I take him home?"

"Yeah, that was the point of me bringing you here." She said, annoyed. "You can sign his release forms and then I don't want to see him around here again." She glanced at Shawn and then back at Jonathon. "At least not without you. Understand?"

Jonathon wasn't sure who she was talking to but he decided to answer anyways. "We understand." He said, watching Shawn's lack of expression.

She unlocked the door and slid it open, Shawn stepping out slowly, as if uncertain whether it was safe to do so.

They started back down the corridor and Jonathon realized it was him who Shawn was hesitant about nearing. He was eyeing him with precaution and Jonathon felt a mix between approval that the boy knew that he was in the wrong and hurt that he feared him of all people.

Jonathon signed the appropriate papers with haste, trying to ignore the looks of several passersby.

It wasn't until they had reached the parkinglot that Shawn dropped his gaze and finally spoke. "Am I in trouble?"

Jonathon was surprised at the question and confused at the answer. He studied his face, guilt residing over his features like a sheet. It must have mirrored his own, Jonathon thought, placing his thumb over his cheek bone, the rest of his hand tenderly cupping his head. "Yes, but... So am I."


	23. Chapter 23

I WANT TO THANK ALL MY DEDICATED READERS FOR THEIR PATIENCE! I'M SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I'VE UPDATED BUT I'VE BEEN SO BUSY! DECEMBER IS EXAM MONTH AND I JUST FINISHED MY LAST ONE LAST NIGHT. I'M GOING TO WORK REALLY HARD AND GIVE YOU GUYS A SPECIAL CHRISTMAS BOY MEETS WORLD CHAPTER AS A TREAT :) I LOVE TO WRITE AND IT REALLY SUCKS WHEN YOU DON'T HAVE THE TIME TO DO SO. I'VE GOT LOTS OF PLANS FOR SHAWN AND 2 WEEKS OF FREEDOM...WE'LL SEE WHERE THIS GOES ;)

* * *

Jonathon pulled the boiling pot from the burner and placed it gently down on the one beside it. He enjoyed cooking, but tonight all he wanted to do was ride around on his Harley. However, despite his needs he remembered that he was a parent and he was responsible for Shawn and for the example set before him. His priorities not quite yet in order, he battled with himself over the thought of trading in his bike for a car. The sacrifice was not nearly as devastating as it would be to lose Shawn, he realized, suddenly understanding his parents' disapproval of him getting the thing in the first place.

He made his way to the table where he set it for two. A few months ago, the late night dinner for two would have been for him and a hot date. Tonight it was for him and a resentful teenager.

"Shawn! Come and eat, buddy!" He called, realizing how much he sounded like his father, undecided as to whether or not that was a bad thing.

There wasn't a response from the small bedroom, as Jonathon had anticipated, and he strode across the living room, holding his breath.

Opening the door, he found Shawn sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall in front of him. He did nothing to prove his acknowledgement of Jonathon's presence. He stared blankly, sadness surfacing over his unmoving face.

"Shawn." Jonathon said softly, his heart breaking at the sight.

He looked at him, finally, his hair falling in his eyes as he turned his head. "I'm coming."

Jonathon took a deep breath, struggling to think of anything appropriate to say; unable to find an adequate way of fixing him. He sat down beside him, hesitated briefly, then wrapped his arm around the boy, pulling him in tightly. "I'm so sorry about today, Shawn. I should never have gone down to the police station. It's all my fault."

Shawn frowned. "What? Um...Yeah, I mean, it is all your fault."

Jonathon smiled. "You're just a kid. I'm supposed to be setting the example, not letting my anger get the best of me."

"So you're saying you were wrong? Adults never say they're wrong."

"Well, I guess that's because I'm new to this whole grown up thing. Give me some time, I'll be pointing fingers in no time." Jonathon winked, unsure whether joking was appropriate.

Shawn didn't smile. Instead, he discovered his interlocked fingers in his lap and began to study them closely.

"Are you okay, buddy?" Jonathon rubbed his shoulder. "I should've known you would follow me, and while what you did was inexcusable, I'm really sorry they put you in a cell. That must've been pretty scary."

He shrugged. "I guess. I don't know. I just wanted to see him!"

Jonathon brought his other arm around him, as well, and pulled him closer and tighter. "It's gonna be okay. I promise."

* * *

"Dude, you were in jail! I've been with you all day. Why is this just coming up now?" Cory exclaimed, slamming a bottle of ketchup down on the table.

"Would you shut up?" He growled, glaring at those around him who's attention Cory had attracted. "It's not that big of a deal."

Cory's face went pink. "Sorry. But yes it is. Why is nothing a big deal to you?" He whispered.

"Oh, now you whisper! Now that everyone in Chubbie's knows! Now they're gonna go tell everyone and their uncle." Shawn pushed his food away, having lost his appetite.

"They're not going to tell anyone."

"Yeah? Then why is Chubbie over there telling his uncle?" Shawn pointed at the round, burly man speaking closely to an even larger man.

"Wow, that Chubbie Senior sure aged well!" Cory grinned. "What happened?"

Shawn shrugged. "I got mad. They wouldn't let me see my dad."

"They found him? So that means...Oh." Cory bit his lip. "Are you okay?"

Again, Shawn shrugged. He didn't feel like talking about it, but he also didn't feel like he could handle keeping it to himself. All his life he was independent, but now he felt as though he was finally facing a mountain that he couldn't move by himself. "I don't even know what I feel." He admitted, Cory watching him carefully.

"So, what are you going to do?"

"What would you do?" Shawn shrugged, noticing two familiar figures prod down the stairs into the dim restaurant.

* * *

"Of all the places we could go to eat, you choose this shady place? It's packed from wall to wall and look! They're all teenagers! Let's go!"

Detective Nicky Adams turned to his partner and grabbed his arm. "You said you were starving! This was the closest place I knew. Come on!"

"How would you know about this place? You live on the other side of town." Chris froze, realization hitting him and settling in the features of his face. He sent a look to Nicky that had "are you crazy?" written all over it.

"It's not what you think." Nicky held up his hands in defence.

"You are stalking this kid!" Chris hissed. "You're gonna get yourself arrested. You heard what the lieutenant said. You're already on probation!"

Nicky tilted his head. "Come on, I know he's hiding something. I've just gotta talk to him alone."

Chris stole a glance at Shawn Hunter from across the room, finding himself double taking the action as the kid had risen to his feet, eagerly.

He jumped up on the table, landing on his knees in front of a smaller kid with dark, curly hair. He thrusted himself forward and grabbing the collar of the boy's shirt with his left hand, he yanked his other arm back and launched it forward, his fist connecting sharply with the boy's face.

The detectives darted towards him. Nicky grabbed Shawn's arms tightly in his fists and pulled him off the table with a thud.

He stumbled slightly and began to struggle in his grip.

"What's going on here?" He spun him around, meeting his angry glare. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" Nicky ducked his head, instinctively, just narrowly dodging Shawn's fist. He forced him around again, forcefully bending him over the table, clasping his wrists in his right hand, his left pressing down on his neck. "Cuff him, Chris!"

* * *

THANKS AGAIN FOR READING! :)


	24. Chapter 24

SORRY I DIDN'T GET THIS DONE BY CHRISTMAS BUT I GUESS IT'S STILL TECHNICALLY THE CHRISTMAS SEASON. I'M HOPING I DIDN'T LOSE ANY READERS ALONG THE WAY, SO PLEASE REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! I'VE GOT SOME BIG PLANS FOR THIS STORY :) THANKS FOR READING!

* * *

It was December 24th and Nicky couldn't care less. In fact, Nicky hated Christmas and all it was worth. He hated the gift buying, the tacky decorations, and the cold that accompanied the season. And he hated the music most of all, he thought, slamming the radio off with his fist. Bing Crosby's "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" brought on holiday memories that he wished not to reminisce.

He wasn't always a Grinch, as his young niece would sometimes call him. Back in Jersey, where he grew up, he loved Christmas and the works. His mother was always in the kitchen, as he supposed she would be right at that moment back at home, and his father would be in the den watching "The Godfather" and sipping on a fresh batch of baileys. He could envision a younger version of himself out playing road hockey with his brothers, three beautifully knit sweaters upon each of their backs. Now that was Christmas at its finest. That was how Christmas was supposed to be. But everything was changed for Nicky on his 13th Christmas that made him hate the holiday all together.

It all began when the school hockey coach offered to give him some one-on-one sessions. Nicky was the teams left wing and he was a "natural", according to his coach. Slightly embarrassed that he was the only one who Coach Carter had asked for extra guidance, Nicky questioned him. It was because he was "special", he had said, something that Nicky now realized that he should have seen right through. He shouldn't have trusted him, but he was thirteen. It was the 80s and everyone trusted everybody. Or at least that's what Nicky had assumed in his young, impressionable mind.

It started out with just what he'd promised: some extra lessons. He'd go over certain plays that they'd practiced with the rest of the team and he'd give him tips on how to improve his performance. Every now and then he'd say that Nicky was his "star player".

It wasn't until the third of fourth late night alone in the arena with the man that Nicky started to feel like something wasn't right. Carter would get real close to him when he spoke. He'd wrap his arms around him, his hands over top of his on his stick, guiding him through a shot, like a he'd do with his girlfriend. Nicky felt uncomfortable, and each time he'd feel him closer and closer.

On one particular night, Christmas Eve in fact, he was, for the umpteenth time, showing Nicky how to do a slap shot. _He hadn't perfected it yet._ At this point Nicky didn't care. He could feel his warm breath on his neck and it made a shiver run through his body like ice beneath his skin. The man's large hands tightened around his wrists and Nicky knew he couldn't escape him even if he were trying to. He could feel something hard against his back and he closed his eyes, trying to avoid his thoughts.

"I have to go now." Nicky told the coach, his voice small and shaky. "My mom's waiting outside." He lied, immediately regretting not saying his dad was waiting, instead.

Carter let go of him and Nicky skated off to the locker rooms as fast as he could. He shouldn't have even bothered getting changed. Why he thought taking off his pads and packing away his weapon was a good idea, Nicky always wondered in irony.

The coach followed him in and cornered him. There was no escaping and there was no one around to overhear or to save him. He touched him. He made Nicky touch him. He made him do unspeakable things and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't get away and he couldn't fight him off. He couldn't even recall putting up much of a fight. All Nicky had wanted was for it to stop and every time he argued or refused, Carter would threaten to tell his teammates what he had done already. They would never accept him after what he'd done. They wouldn't want to be his friends anymore if they knew. And the coach reminded him of that each and every time.

Nicky left the locker room after hours of being abused. His parents had no idea where he was and they weren't expecting him anytime soon. He wondered if he should tell them, but he thought it might be his fault. Was he weird? Was he a freak? Was he gay? Carter told him that he wanted it. He didn't, he knew he didn't. But he kept going back, confused and terrified of what somebody would do if they found out.

After a year of torment, Nicky quit hockey, having completely fallen out of love with the sport. He stopped watching it on TV and stopped even going to watch his brothers play. He would do anything to avoid seeing Coach Carter again and to avoid the memories that overcame him like the Plague.

He never told anyone and he took that with him in his job. He idolized every single person he interviewed, because they had the balls to speak up. They'd put their fears and their dignity aside and did what was right. They didn't let their abuser go to the grave with everyone around him believing that he was a loving and caring man and everybody's best friend. They did what he never could and he would make sure that no one ever had to go through the pain that he did.

When Nicky looked at Shawn he saw himself. He saw a kid that was scared and confused and wanting to believe so badly that somebody was there to protect him. When his father wasn't doing the job he turned to his teacher. And when his teacher welcomed him with open arms he thought it was too good to be true. Maybe it was too good to be true. Or maybe it was true.

But Nicky saw what he saw. He saw a young guy around the same age as his coach was with a real big heart. Everyone loves him, everyone thinks he's such a good guy which can be the most dangerous weapon of all. If Jonathon was hurting Shawn like Carter had hurt Nicky, Nicky was going to get him. He didn't care if he lost his job trying to prove it or if he couldn't put him jail. He would do what he had to do to protect Shawn.

When Chris, his partner, asked him if he was crazy, Nicky had no response. If he was then that gave him more motive. He was going to do everything in his power to take those who drove him there off the streets. He was going to get creeps like Jonathon Turner, who take advantage of young boys like him and Shawn.

* * *

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	25. Chapter 25

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! I'M WORKING ON THE NEXT CHAPTER AND IT SHOULD BE UP IN A FEW DAYS. HOPE YOU ENJOY!

* * *

Jonathon huffed loudly, lifting the steel bar into its stand, hearing the clang of the weights on either end as he shifted balance. He sat up and wiped his hair off of his sweaty forehead. It still wasn't enough. He still wasn't capable of relaxing.

All he could think about was Shawn. All he wanted was for some kind of progress between the two of them, but he couldn't help but feel like every time they took a step forward, they'd take another two steps back. Like Jonathon would move forward and Shawn would edge away twice the distance. He'd tell him how he feels, show him how much he cares in every way he could think of, he'd swear on everything that ever meant anything to him that he'd be loyal to the kid, but nothing was enough to make Shawn reciprocate. Not even in the slightest.

Jonathon pushed himself up onto his feet and grabbed his towel out of his gym bag. He wiped his face, taking in the empty room and when his vision was no longer blocked by the white fabric, he realized that it was no longer empty. "Alan?"

"Jonathon. I'm so glad I finally found you." He breathed, crossing the room towards him.

"Something wrong?" Jonathon asked, not liking the look on Alan's face. "Wait. Is it Shawn? Is he okay?"

"Wow." Alan sighed, ruffling his hair, nervously. "Well, this is never anything that a parent wants to hear. Not really easy to say..."

"Spit it out, please."

Alan gave him a long, hard look. "Shawn's been arrested."

"WHAT?!" Jonathon wasted no time. He grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder, not caring that most of its remnants fell to the floor through the open zipper.

"Wait." Alan stepped in his path. "You've got to stay calm now, okay?"

Jonathon looked at him in disbelief. "Yeah I'm always calm when people I care about get arrested. Don't worry."

"No, come on. As fathers, and I am referring to you as a father because that is what you are now, we tend to blow things way out of proportion and it just makes everything worse than it already is. You just gotta keep your cool."

Jonathon frowned. "What exactly do you think I'm going to do?"

"I'm not saying... Look, you just can't go in there looking to kick somebody's butt, okay?"

"Well, I'd sure like to get my hands on Shawn. What the hell was he thinking? What'd he-?"

"Yeah, you know what? It's probably not Shawn you'll be upset with." Alan reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. "Come on, I'll explain on the way."

* * *

"Where are you taking me?"

"To jail." Was his cold response.

Shawn felt tears well up in his eyes and his lips begin to quiver. He didn't want to go to jail. He wasn't a criminal. He'd made a mistake. It was a bad idea. He was scared and lonely. And there were some very creepy men in the holding cells last time that he really didn't want to encounter again. "Why?"

"Because you assaulted that boy. You're a danger to the public." Detective Adams informed him in his raspy voice.

Shawn wanted to argue with him, but he knew that if he opened his mouth that he would start to cry.

"What? You don't have any smart aleck remark for me this time?" The man was watching him through his rear view mirror. His partner whispered something beside him, but Shawn couldn't decipher what it was. Nicky ignored him. "What's the matter with you?" He raised his voice.

"Nothing!" Shawn wailed, now unable to stop the tears from escaping from his eyes. All Shawn wanted was his bed. He didn't care if he had to cry himself to sleep again or have another dream about his dad, he just wanted to be safe in his bed.

"Nick, enough!" Chris' voice was louder now, but still a whisper.

Soon enough, the car did stop and Shawn was let out of the back seat. He looked around as he got out, realizing that they had arrived at the police station. "No!" He cried, trying to resist Chris who had hold of his arm, his wrists still cuffed behind his back.

"Hey, it's okay, kiddo." Chris offered, gently, sending Nicky a look.

"Please, I won't do it again! Just let me go!" Shawn begged, gasping between sobs.

"Are you sure? Because the fact that you did it in the first place tells me everything, Shawn." Nicky came around to their side of the car and took his arms in his hands. He bent down so their faces were level. "You saw me walk into that restaurant and then you hit him. You weren't even fighting. You were just trying to get my attention, weren't you?"

"No!" Shawn yelled, realizing that this didn't make things better for Jonathon, knowing that Nicky already didn't like him. "It's my fault. Please, I just want to go home."

"Shawn, it's okay. You don't have to be afraid. You can tell me what's going on. I promise I can help you!"

Shawn paused, studying the man in front of him, wondering if he could truly trust him. He wouldn't disappear from his life. He kept reappearing every time he thought he'd seen the last of him. Perhaps he was trustworthy after all. "You'll do anything?" He sniffed.

"Anything, buddy." Nicky said softly, the frown disappearing from his face.

"Let me see my dad."

* * *

"Shawn hit Cory?" Jonathon gasped. "Why would he do that? He would never do that!"

"Cory would barely tell me anything." Alan shook his head, letting his right hand slide off the steering wheel to rest in his lap. "But I'm telling you, I've known Shawn since he was in diapers and not once has he ever turned violent. It's just not his way."

"Yeah, well, he's been going through a lot lately. He hasn't really been himself."

Alan cranked his wheel, making a very wide right turn, not bothering to brake. "How so?"

"Well he clocked me in school a few weeks ago, turned some desks over, and then there was the incident at the police station."

"It happened just as the cops got down the stairs. It just doesn't sound right."

"Oh my God." It only took a few seconds and then Jonathon understood. "Does this thing go any faster?"

* * *

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	26. Chapter 26

As soon as Alan pulled into the parking spot, Jonathon swung open his door and jumped out, not waiting for Alan to even finish parking. He watched him sprint up to the building and disappear through the door, as he gathered the keys and locked the car. He followed after him, his own heart pounding like Shawn were his own kid.

He could hear Jonathon's panicking voice the moment he opened the glass door. "Shawn Hunter. He was arrested by Detective Adams at a restaurant over on the west end and I want to know where he is! I'm his legal guardian."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but we haven't had any kids coming through here all night." The officer behind the counter informed him. He turned in his chair to face the officer beside him. "Hey, Dan, have you seen or heard from Nicky at all tonight?"

"Nada. I haven't talked to him since parade this morning." The man answered, not bothering to even shift his gaze from his computer.

"You've gotta be kidding me! He took my kid! He has Shawn, Alan!" Jonathon was looking pale, as he stepped back from the desk. "Oh God! What is he doing with him?"

"Hey!" Alan stepped up to the desk, slamming his fist down with authority. "Listen. My son watched Detective Adams take Shawn Hunter from a restaurant in hand cuffs, claiming that he was under arrest. If he didn't bring him here then he's kidnapped him and that is _your_ responsibility! So you better damn well pay attention to this man and find out where Shawn is before this goes viral. You wouldn't want this type of story running all over the news, would you?"

"Alan, he's kidnapped him! He came to my house in the middle of the night a few weeks ago trying to take him. He's done it! He's ruthless and he's done it! Oh, God, this is all my fault! What am I going to do?" He was shaking, frantically running his hand over his face.

Alan put a hand on his shoulder. "Jon, we're going to find him. I'm sure he's fine. We just have to find out where he..." He paused, turning back to the copper behind the desk. "Where is Chet Hunter?"

The officer who looked just barely older than Shawn stared at him, dumbfounded. "Excuse me?"

"Is Chet Hunter in this building or was he moved? Please! Shawn wanted to see his dad more than anything. What if he took him there? Somewhere else?" Jonathon was practically yelling.

"I'm gonna have to look that up." The kid said, glancing at the guy beside him for approval. The other officer shrugged.

"Come on! Anyone ever tell you it's okay to break the rules every now and then?" Alan rolled his eyes, turning around and beginning to pace the floor. He couldn't think of anything else to say, but Jonathon's desperate voice from behind him gave him hope.

"Chet Hunter has been beating the living fuck out of his son his whole life! Shawn is a _good kid_ and he doesn't deserve _any_ of this! I just need to know he's safe. Please, help me find him."

* * *

"Jon!"

"Oh, thank God!" Jonathon couldn't remember even opening the door, as he raced from the parking lot into the Detention Centre. The moment he'd laid his eyes on Shawn, he felt his heart leap, and then suddenly he was in front of him and had the boy wrapped in his arms.

There were tears streaming down Shawn's cheeks as he pulled away from Jonathon enough to look at him face to face. "He said I can see my dad, Jon."

Jonathon ripped his glance away from Shawn and redirected it at Nicky, his lips trembling with anger. "You son of a bitch!"

"Jon?" Shawn stepped back, confusion residing over his tear streaked face.

"You treat me like shit! You stalk me, you accuse me of being a pedophile, and then you pick him up off the streets and bring him here? To the guy who put him in this miserable state? I thought he'd been kidnapped! I thought he'd wind up..." Jonathon choked on his words, unable to even finish that thought. "Now you're the one who looks like the creep! Huh? You're the one endangering him!"

Nicky moved closer to Jonathon. "Shawn was aching to see his father!"

"I'm not the one who refused him that!" Jonathon spat.

"I was just trying to help him!"

He was shaking. He was shaking so violently that he thought that if he didn't do something fast he would explode. Jonathon came at Nicky with an abundance of force which was fueled by a mixture of his overpowering emotions. Anxiety, fear, hopelessness, along with something inside him that felt like fire every time he thought of Shawn. Jonathon called it love. He called it protectiveness. He called it fatherhood.

"Jon!" Shawn exclaimed, his fearful voice made it difficult to ignore him, but not to continue.

"It's okay, Shawn." Jonathon reassured, slamming the other man against a wall.

"Get your hands off me, Turner!" Nicky hissed.

Jonathon had him cornered, his hands clutching the collar of his shirt, almost mimicking Nicky's attack on Jonathon at his apartment exactly. "Do you have a case against me?" Jonathon could hear voices behind him. He knew that attacking a cop at a jail was a bad idea, but he didn't care.

The anger in Nicky's eyes could've killed someone, as he held his glare as he answered him. "No."

Jonathon pressed harder, his teeth gritted. "Will you ever?"

After a long, gruelling glare, Nicky's response was clearly resentful. "No."

Jonathon released him, feeling like a weight, though small, had just been lifted from his shoulders. As he turned his head, he realized that he had attracted an audience. Half a dozen uniform officers stood in a ring surrounding them, surprisingly wearing smiles upon their smug faces.

"Yeah, yeah. This is over, Turner." Nicky sighed, Jonathon realizing that the other cops were thankfully amused by the disturbance.

"This is over? You don't think I'm some kind of..."

Nicky interrupted him. "Shawn and I had a little talk and well...I believe him."

Jonathon shook his head in disbelief. "After all of that."

The crowd dispersed and Alan stepped forward to greet Shawn. He wrapped his arm around him and spoke to him, his voice too soft for Jonathon to hear.

"But I'm not apologizing, Turner." Nicky spoke quietly, as well, his mouth just inches from Jonathon's ear. "Because I wasn't wrong. Shawn _was_ hiding something and I think you ought to know."

* * *

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	27. Chapter 27

Staring blankly forward was one of the bravest people Jonathon had ever met. He was shivering and his face was blotchy, but he was resilient. It was as if his tears washed away his pain and suffering, like the rain would do to a muddy car. Shawn was a fighter. Shawn was fifteen years old and he was Jonathon's hero.

Shawn was everything any man could ever hope to be. He had every quality one could desire, because they were either forced upon him or by some unexplainable form of magic he managed to make it out alright. He was brave, strong, and loving. He was loyal like a dog to his owner. That basically described Chet and Shawn's father-son relationship. Dogs live for attention. They want it so badly that they'll take it in any way, shape, or form. And despite it all, they still will not turn their backs on their masters. They love them no matter what.

"Hey, you okay, buddy?" Jonathon asked, squeezing his shoulders, gently.

Shawn was startled, but nodded, as if pretending otherwise. "Yeah, I'm fine." He looked anything but fine. He was pale and had dark circles around his eyes. He looked thin, thinner than he'd remembered, and another opportunity to worry about Shawn arose.

"Are you scared?"

There was silence for a long moment, his voice quiet when he finally responded. "Yeah."

Jonathon took a deep breath, realizing that he was a little nervous himself. "It's gonna be fine, pal. He's your dad. He loves you." He lifted his hand from his shoulder, cupping the boy's face in his hand. "Who wouldn't?"

Shawn smiled at him and, for a brief moment, he thought it might have been legitimate. Like in that brief moment Shawn was actually happy. But seconds turn into minutes and moments turn into memories. Memories of happiness and joy that are kept tucked safely away for less joyous moments when we have difficulty remembering what happiness is. And then we can identify with the level of pain that we are suffering, because you can recognize and confirm that your life and your innocence has been shattered into thousands of tiny irreparable pieces.

The door swung open and people who carry weapons on their belts entered their lives. They barged in with their "pleases" and their "Yes, Sir!"s when they could've spent their whole lives in that moment without meeting someone who also believed in loyalty, but was a symbol and an omen for disaster.

"We're all set, boys." Nicky's voice sent shivers down Jonathon's spine. He'd spent months hating the man and now it just represented the mess that he'd gotten himself into: Shawn. Shawn's mess. Shawn's life.

* * *

"What do you mean Shawn was hiding something?" Jonathon glanced at the boy who was engaging in a small conversation with Alan.

When Jonathon turned back to Nicky, he saw that he had been watching him, too. "Not here."

"Well, where?" Jonathon wiped his hand across his face, feeling his heart rate increase for at least the fourth time that evening that wasn't caused by physical activity.

Nicky motioned him forward. "Hey, Morgan!"

A tall man in uniform responded to the sound of his name.

"Can you show these two gentlemen to visiting room B, for me?" He asked, referring to Shawn and Alan.

The guard nodded and Nicky led Jonathon down the hall and into a dark, empty office. He flicked on the light switch and pulled out the chair from the desk. "Have a seat."

"Just tell me what he said." Jonathon's patience had been left back with Shawn.

"You should really sit down."

"You should really tell me, now."

"You've been through a lot with him, okay? The last thing you're going to want to hear is..." He stopped himself and then started up again. "What I have to tell you, you're not going to like and I need to know you're going to stay calm. I really don't think I can handle doing this dance with you one more time, you got me?"

Jonathon sat down, obediently, for probably the first time in his life. His body was aching for a chance to rest and he just knew that this last bit of news was going to come as a blow to him, knocking him off his feet. "You have my undivided attention."

* * *

"He hit me almost every day, but he still loved me." Shawn croaked after ten minutes of silence, down an open country road.

Nicky's head snapped toward him, startled by his sudden choice in conversation. "I wish I could love someone like you can, kid." Nicky admitted, repositioning himself in his seat and switching hands on the steering wheel.

Shawn was staring at him from the passenger seat, the kid so small, Nicky wondered if he should have had him in the back. "It's not that hard. Not when he was the only one who actually protected me."

Nicky couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with Shawn. "Protect you? No, Shawn, he beat you! He was endangering you."

The reaction Shawn gave was almost unbelievable. He made a coughing noise, which drew in Nicky's attention until he realized that it was a laugh. One single laugh and a smirk upon his face, an expression that seemed so disturbing with the tears still rolling down his cheeks. He met his gaze, like he was giving him advice and it formed a sick feeling in Nicky's gut. "There are worse things in life than beatings."

* * *

"Shawn has an older brother. He lives in the trailer park where Shawn grew up."

"No." Jonathon shook his head. "He never told me that. It's not in his file."

Nicky rubbed his neck, took a deep breath and continued. "Yes. He's the son of Virna Hunter and Hank Richmond. We have him in custody."

Jonathon frowned. "Oh, okay. Is that the news? Shawn found out that his brother was arrested?"

"I...I wish." Nicky hesitated, rubbing his hand over his mouth. "No, Eddie Richmond has been arrested for sexual assault of a minor."

* * *

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	28. Chapter 28

GOT THE LAPTOP BACK! THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE, GUYS AND THE FEEDBACK! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. I'VE BEEN WORKING HARD ON THIS ONE

"Sexual assault of a...?" Jonathon almost fell off his chair. He clutched the desk beside him and shut his eyes, waiting for the ride to cease. The room was spinning and Jonathon felt like he might pass out. How could this be? How could Shawn be related to such terrible people and still be okay? Was he okay?

"A minor." Nicky finished his sentence, sitting down on the other side of the desk.

Jonathon took a deep breath, his arms still grasping the table and his feet distanced to balance himself. "Which minor?" He asked, wishing to press pause on this scene until he could catch his breath, get some sleep, or to at least think for a second.

When Nicky didn't respond, Jonathon was sure that he didn't want an answer. He wished it had been him instead. Hell, he felt like it was. Just knowing. Knowing that he had looked at him almost every day and didn't see how he was suffering. He was in agony and yet Shawn never said a word. He was so terrified that he never let anyone in. He never let anyone protect him. He didn't even know what that was. "Please..." He shook. "Just tell me it's not Shawn."

Nicky put his head down on the desk. "This job doesn't get any easier." He was shaking his head 'no', like he was disagreeing with himself. Suddenly, he got to his feet and moved over to the door. "Eddie Richmond..." His voice cracked and he paused, spun around to look at Jonathon face to face, and tried again. "Eddie Richmond raped Shawn on numerous, countless occasions from the time he could walk."

Jonathon jumped up and darted toward the trash can in the opposite corner, his emotions pouring out of him through stomach lurches and wet heaves. He gagged for several minutes, then lifted himself from the can with both hands on either side. He held there, his whole body weak and jittering. "I can't do this."

Nicky was at his side. "You have to."

"I can't. He needs... I can't."

"You have to!" Nicky's voice boomed, as he reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "You're all he's got."

Through the window sat a man in an orange jumpsuit, hair buzzed off, eyes dark and puffy, appearing to be impatient and annoyed. His usual round face looked gaunt and was layered with stubble, giving him a kind of edge which made Shawn's skin crawl. He firmly believed that Chet Hunter was going to kill him.

He betrayed him. He went behind his back and spoke negative things about him. He was a bad son. He had worked so hard to be good, but he kept screwing everything up. He was a screw up. Everything he touched turned to crap. He was truly just waiting for the fall out with Jonathon. He figured that it shouldn't be too much longer before he decided that Shawn was too much for him. That he was cramping his style and kept getting in the way. Or at the very least had far too much baggage for Jonathon to handle and kick him out.

There was no going back. Not after his conversation with Nicky, where he stupidly admitted the existence of his brother. He was overwhelmed with excitement when Nicky promised him that he'd take him to the county jail to visit his father. He said he'd pull some strings and get him in even though it was past visiting hours, so Shawn was feeling a bit of gratitude toward the man. He was in a moment of a good fortune streak where his take on life was much more positive than the moment prior. He thought God was finally on his side and so he broke down and opened his mouth.

_"Have I taught ya nothing?" Chet lectured, slamming his beer bottle down on the floor, roughly. He rolled onto his side, it taking him three tries to climb to his feet from the couch._

_ "I'm sorry, dad. It's just Minkus kept asking for the money. I couldn't keep saying that I forgot." An eleven year old Shawn stuttered, attempting to explain why Stewart Minkus' father had just called to inform him that Shawn's contribution to Mr. Feeny's Christmas present was covered and not to worry about it._

_ Chet was inches away from him in seconds and with a sharp back hand to the face, he growled through gritted teeth. "My money is my business! What I choose to do with my money and my stuff and my boy is MY business! You got that. Boy?" He added, shaking him roughly._

Chet had made things pretty clear for Shawn. He owned him and there was nothing he could do about it. Shawn didn't mind so much, however, because at least he recognized him as something. He was his. He was _his_ boy. Chet liked the things that he had: his beer, his whiskey, his poker, his prostitutes, his money (though there was little of it). So if Shawn was _his_ then he figured that Chet must like him at least a little bit.

"We're all set, boys." Came Nicky's voice, as he opened up the door, next to the window he had been dreaming into.

"Um, actually…" Shawn cranked his neck to see what lay beyond Nicky, his body just barely poking out over the threshold. "I think I wanna do this alone."

"So what comes next?" Jonathon probed, returning to his chair and resting his head back on the wall.

Nicky having just gotten back from retrieving him a bottle of water, sighed and turned his attention to the opened door as if he could see Shawn through it. "Well, there'll be a trial. Shawn will be needed to testify against him and then I will personally lock him up and throw away the key."

"Are there other victims?" Jonathon couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. He felt like he was on an episode of Law and Order, not facing the realities that had just become his life.

"Cases like this there are usually multiple victims, especially since it happened over such a large portion of his life. We'll have to canvas the trailer park. Do you know if Shawn has any other siblings, by chance?"

"I didn't think he had any." Jonathon responded, shaking his head. "I wish he didn't."

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	29. Chapter 29

He crept in slowly, his knees shaking like they were about to buckle. His face was pale, the tension in the room more evident on his features than the vibe. His lips were pressed together, the bits that were visible were white signifying pressure, and his eyes portrayed a mixture of fear and nothingness as they avoided his presence.

Though his face was nervous and afraid, it appeared strange to Chet. He was used to his son's careful presence, but something stood out among his awkward stance that brought a feeling to the pit of Chet's stomach. He looked healthier, older, and stronger. A combination of emotions and thoughts overcame him as result of this realization and he laid his head in his arms for a moment to maintain composure.

He was angry most over anything else. He couldn't bring himself to believe that having left his son alone for almost a year would benefit him in such obvious ways. He was better off without him, which was a reality that Chet had yet to face.

Finally, he heard the recognizable screeching of the chair across from him being dragged across the floor and he rose from his seat, realizing he should have embraced his son. Shawn was startled by his sudden movement and Chet felt like his cellmate had just popped him one in the face. What was his problem? Why was he being so…?

Shawn raised his gaze abruptly at Chet's movement, his eyes wide and fearful. However, he stepped towards him, ignoring his father's outstretched hand and sitting down at the table.

Chet shot a glance toward the guard standing in the corner of the room. He was looking for some kind of acknowledgement or empathetic gesture, but he waited absently as if he were nothing more than an object in the room. "Tough crowd." He croaked, replacing himself in his chair. He watched the boy across from him, who was now surveying him with his eyes slightly narrowed and his jaw tightening and untightening. "So—"

Shawn blatantly cut him off, seeming a little gutsier than Chet had pegged him for. "No, I…I'm gonna be doing the talking. I need to talk. I've been needing to see you and I don't want to waste this time with your games and lies." He stared at the ground, only looking up when he finished.

Chet was beside himself. "All I was gonna tell ya was that I missed ya. Now, that ain't no lie, boy."

Shawn's face grew paler, if that was even possible. "I…um, I missed you, too, dad. I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"Don't apologize to me, boy!" Chet found himself yelling, finally attracting the attention of the guard. He held up his index finger and stabbed it at the air, roughly. "Shawn-y." He lowered his voice. "I don't want you anywhere near here. I don't want you to come back."

His brow furrowed and his nostrils flared. "What? Why? Dad, I need you!"

"Shawn-y," he said in a condescending tone. "Jail is no place for a boy. It's no good for ya. I'm no good for ya. Ya know that."

"No!" He argued. "I don't know that! You're my father! I need you to start being my father! Please, dad!"

Chet could feel his heart break. He wished that he would never have to deal with this. He'd known that he was a terrible father all of Shawn's life, but he did everything in his power to forget it, to pretend it wasn't true. Now, staring at his son, sober and awake, he wanted to die. He couldn't stand to look at his own boy, let alone live with the knowledge of what he'd done. "You got yer teach out there. He's yer daddy now."

"Dad!" He pleaded. Although his eyes were filled with tears, he shot back in a voice filled with fury and annoyance. "I don't care what you did, okay? It doesn't matter. I need you. I need you so bad and no one else… I'll be good! I won't get in your way or nothing! We can get you out of here. I'll tell them I lied! Please!"

Chet stood and walked around to the other side of the table. He grabbed his hand and pulled him up so he was facing him. "I never said this, boy, but…I love ya, son."

He couldn't put his finger on it, but Chet watched something change about Shawn's face. Without a change in expression, he could see the satisfaction that those words had provided Shawn with. "You always said I was a bad kid."

"No, yer the best damn kid anybody could ever ask for. That's why I'm in here, Shawn-y. I'm no good for ya and ya know it."

"But, Dad, we can start over!"

"This'll be the last time I tell ya what to do, boy, so listen good and no disappointin' me. Ya live yer life without me, forget about me, and make me proud, ya hear?"

Shawn stood dumbfounded in front of him. He looked like he'd just hit him and Chet felt like he had. After a second, Shawn wrapped his arms around his large waist and buried his face in his shoulder. "Don't do this to me."

It took Chet a moment to realize what was happening. He couldn't remember the last time that he had been hugged and he had always taken that to mean that nobody cared for him enough to perform such an action. He could see that that was probably all that Shawn needed. Maybe if he had given him one a day as he was growing up, then he never would've run away or gotten arrested or needed him so badly. Shawn might've been able to let him go if he knew that he was the only thing in this world that was keeping Chet alive.

He tightened his arms around him, and that second of closeness sent him barrelling down a dizzying memory lane. He could shut his eyes and see his baby son staring up at him, wrapped in a soft, blue blanket. He was so fragile, so vulnerable, so perfect. He still was. He opened his eyes and ran his hand down the length of Shawn's back. The same back that he could remember thrashing with his belt. He closed his eyes again, another memory of baby Shawn rolling around in his mother's lap. They could never keep him still. He opened his eyes and envisioned himself tying him to a tree and retreating back into the trailer for the night. He petted his hair and kissed his head as his hand passed. The same head that Virna wouldn't let leave the house without being covered as an infant. The same head he shattered a lamp over as a teenager.

Shawn was still just as fragile, vulnerable, and perfect as he was the moment that he first held him in his arms. There was still time to do right by him. There was still time to save him. "Now, c'mon, boy. Don't make me tell ya, again. And no cryin'." Chet hated crying. In specific he hated seeing his son cry. Not because it emasculated him, like he had always told him, but because it made him feel bad about himself: purely selfish reasons that molded Shawn into the broken young man that he was today. So he would heed his rule just one last time until his boy left and then would be his turn to be broken. "Go on, now! Get!" He pulled away from him and nudged him toward the door.

The look on Shawn's face was one that he would never forget. He had never seen so much pain being expressed all at once. It was like every bit of hurt that Chet had caused Shawn in his lifetime was being felt by him all in that moment. And then he considered the fact that that was most likely the case. He shook as he stepped backward and the tears poured from his eyes like open faucets. "I HATE YOU!" He shrieked, his voice like nails on a chalkboard.

The echo roared through the room, the guard standing by, literally jumped in surprise, his hand hitting his belted baton hard, adding to the echo.

"I hate you!" He repeated, his voice quieter, but still repeating the worst pain Chet had ever felt. He gave him a glare, so filled with anger, that Chet felt his knees weaken beneath him. He spat, pivoted toward the door and ran out, the guard propping it open, anticipating his action.


	30. Chapter 30

HEY GUYS! THANKS FOR ALL THE FEEDBACK. I THINK YOU'LL LIKE THIS ONE

Jonathon was truly terrible at waiting. It was one of his parents' arguments opposing his becoming a school teacher. He wasn't patient enough. No child would ever benefit from his help because he was unable to wait for their response, for their development, for their trust. Jonathon had brushed off this negativity, but it was times like these that he had wished that he had just listened to his old man.

Although, this time, Jonathon would have to argue that he had been very patient with Shawn. He maintained his cool, expanding his temper to the maximum, and he gave him space. He was waiting for Shawn to close the gap between the two of them, but he stretched it further, instead. His patience was being tested. And since tests were in preparation of tasks, Jonathon worried that the worst was yet to come.

"I really don't know what I'm going to do." He admitted to an exhausted Nicky, who was leaning against the door, his head against the speakeasy. He was peering through it, his curiosity the only thing that was not lethargic about his stance.

Nicky didn't say a word, as he slowly turned his head to meet the pathetic expression on Jonathon's face. He shook his head, Jonathon unsure if that meant that he wasn't sure or if he was disgusted by Jonathon's weakness.

"What's going to happen?" He fired off another fret, all of his worries and fears seemingly bubbling beneath his skin, keeping him from calming down.

"Nothing." Nicky sighed, rolling onto his shoulder and leaning on his side to face the other man. "Chet waved his right to an attorney. He confessed and agreed to the maximum sentence. No trial."

Jonathon wasn't expecting to hear that. "Wh-why would he do that?"

"Guilty conscience?" Nicky offered, seeming to be just as surprised as Jonathon had been. "He said he deserved it. He said he didn't want to be a coward anymore. Wanted to make things right."

"He can't make this right!" Jonathon argued. Chet had destroyed Shawn into so many irreparable pieces. It was unimaginable to believe that he could be fixed.

"I don't think you could be more wrong." Nicky speculated, shifting his gaze back to the window. "All Shawn wants is his father."

Jonathon moved over toward Nicky and settled in a spot behind him where he could view the two subjects of conversation. "Some father." He was a monster. He was a white trash, good-for-nothing, son-of-a-bitch with no business being anywhere near Shawn. Jonathon was thrilled to hear that he was incriminating himself, because he deserved everything that was coming to him.

"Well Shawn sure doesn't see it that way. You gotta remember, Chet's not the one who …took complete advantage of him." Nicky paused half way through as if searching for the appropriate word.

Jonathon was still feeling sick. "Yeah and what's going to come of the other one?" He asked, unable to bring himself to say his name or the word 'brother'. In Jonathon's eyes, he was not Shawn's brother. He was a predator and didn't deserve to share the same air with him, let alone blood.

"We got him under allegations of assault and since he's been saying he's innocent he'll go to trial, probably won't make bail but if he does, I mean… it really doesn't matter, he's broke. The trial, well, Shawn'll have to testify."

Jonathon regretted asking. He wished he hadn't, but he knew that that wouldn't change the fact that all of this was happening. He felt like this was the longest night of his life, yet glancing at the clock he realized that it was only a quarter passed eleven.

Nicky was suddenly sent staggering backwards, the door being forced outward from the inside. He caught himself on the doorframe, standing like a brick wall as he replaced himself in the doorway. When Shawn shot out, he was just as surprised as anyone else to be met. "Hey!" Nicky yelled, as Shawn squeezed around him and bolted down the hallway.

Jonathon took off after him, Nicky not far behind. "Shawn! Wait a minute!" In front of the administration's office there was a loud crash that sent Nicky's heart racing passed him.

Shawn was standing amongst a river of glass littered upon the floor. His hands were clutching a large shard of it, both dripping with a thick red liquid. The window guarding the would-be secretary was shattered, a chair thrown across the desk on the other side. He was breathing heavily, his eyes empty like dead and his face almost frightening to approach.

"Shawn." Jonathon edged forward, slowly. "It's gonna be okay."

"No." He shook his head. "No. No. No. No. No."

"Come on. It's okay." Jonathon raised his shaking hands, as he stepped closer. "Hunter…"

"Don't call me that!" He roared. "I'm not! I'm no one." He said, as if realizing this for himself as he said it.

"Hey, now. It's going to be okay." He said softly, as he took Shawn's hands and forced his fingers open. The glass fell to the floor and shattered further and he felt Shawn weaken at the sound. He began to buckle beneath his weight and Jonathon grabbed him, trying to keep him steady.

"No, it isn't!" His voice broke and so did his façade. In seconds he was gasping for air, his face wet from tears and mortified from heartbreak.

"Shawn, listen to me. We're gonna get through this, okay? It's okay, buddy. It's okay." He allowed him to fall to the floor, but guided him there, kneeling amid the broken glass and pulling Shawn into him.

He slid, his knees tucked beneath him and his upper half buried in Jonathon's arms. He cried and he cried openly. There was nothing secretive or private about the hurt that Shawn was feeling. It was there and it was present and it was overwhelming.

Nicky was frozen in his place. He had no idea what to do or say, the urge to engage in something, anything at all, just paralyzed him further. Shawn was helpless and as he watched Jon in his distraught frame of mind, he felt depressed as if the entire situation were an infectious disease, its effects ever raging and contagious.

Jonathon rocked him, speaking softly into his hair. "You're okay. You're okay. Shawn, breathe, honey. I got ya. You're gonna be alright." It was a losing battle. Shawn was inconsolable, his sobbing seeming endless. "I know. I know." Jonathon breathed. But did he really know?

Nicky could see how the situation was affecting the man. He was barely able to console himself, let alone the boy. It was unbelievable that Shawn had managed to keep it all to himself for so long, with such secrecy, when the pain and the heartbreak was literally killing him.

After what must have been an hour, Jonathon gathered Shawn in his arms and got up, practically forcing Shawn to stand himself. "We have to get out of here." He muttered, trying to awaken a dazed, almost lifeless, Shawn, who wasn't doing as much as balancing on his own two feet.

Nicky hurried toward them, finally assuming a place for himself in the scene. "Jon, it's okay." He said, taking Shawn's arm and pulling it over his neck. "Your friend's been waiting in the parking lot. I'll carry him. It's okay." He could see how unstable Jonathon was. He was weak and tired, the burden of Shawn weighing him down so that he was almost immobile.

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	31. Chapter 31

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG BUT I'VE BEEN EXTREMELYY BUSY WITH SCHOOL. JUST ADDED THE FINISHING TOUCHES ON THIS TONIGHT. ENJOY!

Jonathon watched as Nicky brought his arm around, meeting the back of Shawn's knees and scooped him up, carefully. He appeared so small against Nicky's large chest, his arms around his neck and his head buried in his shoulder. He looked like a young child, symbolic in itself. He was frozen in time; forced to grow up too quickly but never given the nurturing he needed to do that correctly. With it all thrown at him at once, this was the product: a fragile 15 year old kid, unable to walk because his legs did not know which direction to move in. He was not guided, he was not pushed, he was not driven to do anything nor be anyone his whole life. He based his existence on gaining his father's approval. Being denied that, being denied his affection and his attention had shut him down. His new direction was to walk away from Chet, the equivalent of learning to walk all over again.

Jonathon limped to the door not understanding why. He wasn't hurt: not physically, but he was worn out and felt like he might just crumble down to the floor if he wasn't careful. As he stepped outside, a cold, fresh breeze blasted him like a cold shower and he breathed inwards, taking in his reality.

Alan pulled up in front of him and without a word the look on his face processed knowledge as if he had never left his side.

"I didn't think you'd stuck around." Jonathon voiced his surprise.

"Of course, I'm your ride home." He answered, automatically, Jonathon having forgotten this fact.

"Oh, right, sorry." He followed Alan's gaze remembering who was following behind him and he ran to open the door.

Nicky kept moving without acknowledging him, as if the door had never even existed. Jonathon was far from offended, however. He was guilty about not carrying Shawn himself, his earlier comment replaying over and over again in his head, this time directed at himself: "Some father". But Jonathon was off his game that night, every logical action hitting him just a moment too late.

He jogged ahead, opened up the car door to the back seat and stepped aside. Nicky bent over and dropped Shawn in the seat with a groan. "Alright, you okay, there?" He asked Shawn. Expecting a response was hopeless. Still, before he pulled his head from the car, he continued to speak to him. "Hey, remember, if you need anything, I'm only a phone call away, alright? Try to get some sleep, buddy." He patted his head once, gently, then straightened up.

"Thank you." Jonathon looked him in the eye, as he said it. He was over their recent past, the present a much more pressing matter.

His face hardened. "I'll be in touch." He said, before disappearing back into the building.

Jonathon closed the door, gently, and hopped in the car. He had nothing to say. He was sitting beside a man who could very well be named a best friend, yet he could not come up with anything to say to him or to Shawn. Even his thoughts were running still, all of them cluttered together in a mass pool of confusion, that his mind was blank and empty. However, it was no vacation. He was in shock. His entire body in delay, unable to recognize even itself.

Alan pulled away from the jail at a sudden pace that made Jonathon's stomach lurch. He appreciated the rush. He was a need-for-speed kind of guy, but he was off in so many ways. The grey face in the passenger side view mirror acting as a constant reminder that his pain was only a fraction of what it could be.

Alan cleared his throat. "Is anybody hungry?" It was as if they were on their return from a late-running ball game, as opposed to a scarring prison visit.

Jonathon shook his head and stole another glance at Shawn through the side view. "What about you, buddy, are okay back there?" He didn't expect a response, he just enjoyed hearing the surprisingly calm sound of his voice, it relaxing him to some strange degree.

After a long pause, Shawn shifted in his seat and let out a subtle groan.

Jonathon turned around this time to look at him. "Did you hear me?"

Another pause and then movement, like he was waiting for enough seconds until it was safe to continue. "I just wanna die." He admitted, his voice barely audible.

Alan, apparently shocked by his honesty, slammed on the brakes, almost causing a collision with the car behind them.

Jonathon fumbled for the door handle and the automatic lock, finally working the door free and throwing himself out onto the street. He ran around to the other side of the car, ignoring the incessant honking of the drivers behind him, and slipped into the backseat beside Shawn.

Shawn looked surprised by his actions, hurtfully pulling himself further towards the door, away from him.

He waited a second for the right words to come. "Shawn… I want you to listen to me just for a second. No matter what goes on here, I'm gonna have your back, buddy. I'm gonna help you through this no matter what it takes. I love you, kid."

Shawn tilted his head to see him through the corner of his eyes. "Jon, would it be alright if that wasn't enough?"

Jonathon's heart didn't sink, because he knew it was true. He expected it and he believed it. It was going to take a lot more than one tender loving man to bring Shawn back to life, or to bring him to life at all. "It's okay." He said, placing his hand on his neck and pulling him into him. "Shhh… It's okay." He kissed the top of his head. "It's okay."

"We're here, guys." Alan's voice came as a surprise to Jonathon, as he hadn't even realized that the car had started moving again.

He ducked his head and peeked out the window, verifying that they were indeed in front of Jonathon's apartment building. He felt Shawn's hand tighten on his arm and he looked down at him, his face hidden between Jonathon's chest and his own arm, which extended out until his firm grip on Jonathon. "Shawn, let's go inside now." He whispered to his ear, running his hand over his hair.

He didn't move a muscle, Jonathon not feeling much of an urge to move either. Sometimes all that was necessary for sanity was comfort, so to avoid another outburst, Jonathon would stay there in that seat all night if that was all it took.

"Cory? What are you doing here?"

Jonathon could see a lanky boy approaching the car; an outsider, a normal, a person free of all the suffering. It was the kind of moment where the mention or appearance, or in this case both, of a person made him aware of his existence, having previously, perhaps for a short time, forgotten completely. He hadn't seen what they had seen. He hadn't felt the deafening silence, the painful awkwardness, the complete loss for words, thoughts, and feeling. But he was confused. He wanted to know what was becoming of his friend and he wanted to help. However, Jonathon doubted that anything could be done.

"Dad? What are _you_ doing here? Is that Shawn? Is he okay? What's going on?"

"Cory, you really need to go home."

"Dad, he's my friend!"

"Cory. I think your friend needs some space."

Jonathon slid to the edge of his seat and maneuvered the door opened with one hand. Putting one foot to the pavement, he tried to guide Shawn out with him. "Come on, buddy. It'll be okay."

He thought he may be fearing facing his friend, but as soon as he locked eyes with him he jumped from the car and bound toward him. "I'm sorry, Cor." He breathed, just as a car's headlight shone upon his face and Jonathon noticed Cory's black eye.

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	32. Chapter 32

It was surreal. It was like having lost a journal and having it turn up, published in the newspaper. Everyone knew him. Everyone knew his past. Everyone knew his agony. He was overwhelmed by all of the assumed emotions that he would be feeling, except they were amplified. However, more than anything he was humiliated.

His father was mad at him. He said he wasn't, but how in the same breath could the man banish him from his life if he were happy with him, his presence, and his existence. He wanted to run away but he didn't have any place to hide. He could just run and never stop, but he could barely bring himself to move. He could curl up into a ball and tell himself that it will all be better in the morning, but he knew that he wouldn't sleep. He knew that if he did he would dream. He knew that if he dreamed he would wake up to the blood curdling sound of his own voice, screaming in terror. He knew that he would not be better in the morning. So what could he do? There was no escaping the horror that shadowed his life until he was completely shielded from any light at all. He had no hope. So what was the point anymore?

Jonathon wanted him to talk. He'd sit with him in his room until he fell asleep and even beyond that, pacing back and forth before him, as Shawn discovered the times he pretended to sleep in hopes that he would leave. He was on suicide watch. Jonathon was too afraid that Shawn would hurt himself to relax, which was flattering but nauseating at the same time. All Shawn wanted was to break down for himself, not for an unwelcomed group of strangers with the same ugly look of sympathy upon their self-important faces. They didn't care. Shawn was just a charity that added a gold sticker beside their names.

"You can talk to me or you can talk to a shrink!" Jonathon exclaimed, having finally allowed himself to stop with the empathy and begin to show some actual emotion.

Shawn kind of liked the sound. "You're already sending me there, anyway. You can't make me do anything. No one can. Not anymore." His voice was filled with apathy, which was far from what he was feeling, but he preferred to output nothingness than 'damsel in distress'.

"Shawn, I don't want to make you do anything. I…I'm doing my best here, kid. I don't know what you want from me."

Shawn looked at him, disbelieving. "Nothing! I want you to leave me alone. I'm not a charity case. I don't need your charity. I don't need to talk about it!"

Jonathon crossed his arms, a glare forming that was full of anger: something that both of them had been bottling since the night at the jail. "I'm going to ignore that first part." He was obviously referring to the fact that Shawn was living under Jonathon's roof and guardianship and calling it charity.

Shawn believed that that was the truth. "I don't want you to."

"Shut up!" Jonathon hissed, appearing to be finally reaching his breaking point. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want you to talk to me? Maybe I want to know what happened, so I can know how to…how to do something? I'd like to help you. That's what all of this is about. I feel like I should be making this right."

Shawn shook his head. "You can't! I appreciate what you're doing, but I don't want it!" He ran a hand through his hair, replaying in his mind what he had said. "That doesn't even make any sense."

Jonathon sat on the arm of the couch and rubbed his eyes. Shawn knew he was exhausting him. "Nothing does."

Shawn joined him on the couch, trying his hardest to muster up a thought well enough to be spoken aloud. "It's like… when you're tired or just having a suckish day. You think to yourself, oh I just want to go home, or man I wish I were somewhere else. Well I keep having those thoughts but when I think of where I wanna be, I got nothing. No where. It's like I don't belong anywhere anymore."

Jonathon sat up straighter, appearing satisfied with this feeding of talk. "That's not true. Things are really hard for you right now obviously. When things get that way it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but that doesn't mean it's not there. Shawn, I've been asking you this for months…please, just let me in. I might be able to help you."

Shawn met his gaze, a sick feeling forming inside him. "I'm trying." His head was starting to hurt. He told himself that if he calmed down for a second than maybe his physical pain would go away. He tried, but nothing could ease his tension. "I can't eat. I can't sleep. I don't feel like doing anything. I don't want to do anything."

"Why?" Jonathon asked, strangely. "Because of what Chet said? Because of what Eddie did–?"

"I'm not talking about that! How do you even know…no! You see…no. I'm done." He jumped up and started toward the door.

"Shawn, what is keeping all of this inside you really doing to you? Making you depressed and tearing you away from the people who truly care about! You can't sleep? Why because you keep dreaming about how he hurt you? You relive it every night, so what I don't understand is why you want him in your life."

"I don't! You're the one who brought him back! You're the one who brought all of this up!" He could feel tears falling down his cheeks and he groaned loudly at them.

Jonathon stood up and grabbed his arm to keep him from leaving. "What are you talking about? You were talking to him on the phone! You begged to see him!"

Shawn was shaking with frustration. "No, not him! You think it's my dad I keep dreaming about?"

Jonathon's hand slid down his arm like his ability to grip had disappeared. "It isn't?"

"No! Wh-why are you doing this to me?"

Jonathon paused. "I'm not the one doing things to you."

His words sent shivers down Shawn's spine. "Stop."

"The more you avoid this the more it'll hurt you and control you."

He was making it seem so simple. He knew it wasn't simple. He knew it hurt him more than words, so why would he even make him try? Shawn remained silent, unsure of what to say and afraid of what might come out.

"Talk to me. Talk to me!" Jonathon's voice was soft, almost soothing. "I promise I won't hurt you. I would never hurt you in any way, buddy. You can trust me."

Shawn squeezed his eyes closed, tightly. He placed his hands on either of Jonathon's shoulders and nudged him back, trying to shake him. He was a lot stronger, bigger than Shawn had been expecting, which didn't comfort him. "I don't want to!"

Jonathon grabbed Shawn's shoulders, as well, his touch startling him and he opened his eyes, abruptly. "You need to. Shawn, it's getting to that point. You need to tell someone _something_."

His lips quivered and he was breathing heavily. He was weak. He was crying. He was worthless. "Please, don't make me, Jon!" It was like getting abused all over again.

Jonathon looked away from him, like he couldn't stand to look at him. "I don't want to make you do anything, Shawn. I… You have to. That's it. Okay? You're going to start talking. Now." He added with authority.

Shawn's mind was racing. He had nothing left to argue. He was out of excuses. He couldn't run away and he had nowhere to hide. His only option was to comply. "Jon…" He dropped his hands from his shoulders and, instead, wrapped his arms around his waist like a little kid. This man wanted to help him and quite frankly Shawn wanted him to help him, too. He wanted to take away his pain and Shawn wanted him to, as well. But he knew that it wasn't that easy. However, maybe it was time to let him try. "Help me!"

* * *

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	33. Chapter 33

DISCLAIMER! PLEASE DO NOT READ IF DESCRIPTIONS OF RAPE OFFEND YOU! MANY OF YOU HAVE BEEN REQUESTING SHAWN'S OPENING UP TO JONATHON, SO PLEASE DO NOT BE ALARMED WHEN HE FINALLY DOES…NOT TO GIVE ANYTHING AWAY. READ WITH CAUTION AND GIVE ME YOUR FEEDBACK. THANKS EVERYONE!

* * *

It was a long time ago. But not that long of a time really. There were many red flags, but that one had been the first that Jonathon had noticed. Maybe he should have noticed Shawn's limp when he slipped into class late all those mornings. Maybe he should have noticed that for the first two weeks living with Jonathon he wore long sleeves and turtlenecks. Maybe he should have said something when he noticed that his lips were just a bit oversized, because swelling does that. Getting hurt does that. Getting beaten in every way possible causes that, but Jonathon never put two and two together. So much for that degree in Psychology.

It took until the night that Shawn almost walked out of the apartment in his sleep for Jonathon to realize that something was really wrong. Once he found the truth he refused to believe that there was more that he could be hiding. He didn't want to believe that a person could possibly go through that much pain in one little lifetime.

That morning, Jonathon received two calls that he couldn't have been happier to receive: help. Nicky was on his way. The lawyer was on her way. He couldn't have been happier if his mother had called to say she was swinging by. He couldn't face this alone, but he was ready for a fight and he was going to initiate it. He was taking action against that son-of-a-bitch and he couldn't wait another second.

He couldn't get Shawn off the sofa that night, so he let him sleep there. He perched himself in the armchair facing him and sat there all night, waiting, watching. He was in no state of mind to sleep. He was afraid of the nightmares he would stir up on his own. That feeling only worsened after help arrived.

"You all know I don't want to do this." Shawn told them, looking around the room. "Even you." He said to the attorney. "Who are you again?"

A grim smile spread across her severe face. "Elizabeth Barclay. I'm the Assistant District Attorney for the Special Victims Unit of Philly P.D."

Shawn raised his eyebrows. "Whatever that means."

Nicky chuckled, leaning forward. "She's your lawyer, Shawn. She's gonna be prosecuting your case."

Shawn leaned back, his jaw clenching as he let out a loud breath through his nose. "Great."

"You're not happy with that?" Elizabeth questioned, pursing her thick lips.

"My dad already said he doesn't want to see me again. I highly doubt he wants to see me in a courtroom selling him out."

"Oh, you don't know?" Elizabeth looked around at the men. "You're dad confessed to all the charges. There isn't going to be any trial. He accepted maximum sentence."

Jonathon cleared his throat loudly.

"What? What's the maximum sentence?" Shawn turned to Nicky, his face having groan paler in an instant.

Nicky bowed his head, but not before sending a glare in Elizabeth's direction. "I believe, it's ten years but, Shawn." He slid off his chair and crouched before him, placing his hands on Shawn's knees. "This is a good thing. This isn't the end. When this is all done with, you and your dad will both be ready to start over. He needs this, even if it's hard."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "So what are you doing here, then?" His eyes darted toward Elizabeth.

"I'm here about your brother, Shawn." She informed him, sympathy setting in over her features.

Shawn scoffed. "Come on! What? So I can throw in jail someone else I… Well, you guys better watch out. Who knows who'll be next, huh?"

"Hey." Jonathon put his arm around him. "He doesn't deserve as much thought as you're putting into this. Just tell them what you told me."

* * *

"He raped me, Jon!" He exclaimed, his face red and streaked. "What am I supposed to do about that? What is it that you think I can say that'll make that any better?"

Jonathon had been begging him to admit it to him for so long, but now the words felt almost unreal, not to mention extremely unsettling. "Fight back."

"I tried! He was stronger and he'd just beat me up until I stopped. It hurt less when I just…let it happen."

He could feel goose bumps rise on his arms. "No, I…I'm sure you did, Shawn. That's not your fault. I meant now. You can fight him now and this time it'll be fair."

"No. You don't understand."

"Make me understand." Jonathon took the boy's face in his hands, trying to read him.

"You don't get this guy. He's got friends. They'll come after me! They always did."

Jonathon's jaw tightened so fast that he bit his cheek in his anger. He pretended not to notice, too furious to react in any particular way. "I will not let anyone hurt you. I will protect you, no matter what, buddy. Don't worry about them."

Shawn shut his eyes, a tear rolling down his cheek, hitting Jonathon's thumb. "They used to chase me for miles. Didn't matter where I was or which way I went, I could never get away from them. They'd hold me down…" His voice was starting to crack, slightly higher pitched than usual. "They'd tell me I liked it. Jon, I didn't like it! I'm not gay or nothing!"

"Hey. Hey!" Jonathon pressed below his eye with his thumb so he would open his eyes and look at him. "That doesn't mean anything, okay? You're not gay. I know. They tortured you. You didn't want that. I know. It's okay, buddy. It's okay!"

Shawn gritted his teeth, his lips quivering as he cried. "They wouldn't stop. Eddie wouldn't let them until he was done with me. It took hours and he never came looking for me!" He roared, breaking away from Jonathon.

"Who?"

"Dad! He said he loved me, but why didn't he stop them? Why?"

Jonathon could feel moisture in his eyes and a lump in his throat. "I don't know, buddy." He pulled him against his chest, not wanting him to see him cry. "Shhhh…It's okay, now." But he didn't believe that himself. He wasn't sure it would ever be okay. Moreover, he didn't know how to make him okay.

* * *

That red flag contained a whole world of secrets that Jonathon hadn't the imagination to even guess at. It was all there and Shawn was reliving it, blow by blow.

"I think there was blood on the floor. I never cleaned it up and it was mine." Shawn narrated, as he watched himself throwing the sponge at the floor.

"_What_?" He could hear a voice, but it felt like it was a million miles away.

"I should never have left. He kept his promise that time and I blew it." He leaped down the trailer steps, rounded one wrong corner and fate had him by the collar.

He felt a hand on his back. It was gentle, but it wasn't consistent with the pain that he was otherwise feeling. A voice reminded him: "_Shawn, that was a dream, man. You're okay."_ But it wasn't a dream. It was real. It happened and it was happening all over again.

"NO!" He could feel his pants being unzipped. His back was being bent into painful positions. There was something unwelcomed inside of him and he closed his eyes, just waiting for it to be over. When he finally opened his eyes he spotted a set of eyes through his own trailer's window. "He wouldn't have had to hit me if I had just listened, but I had to go and screw it up, yet again! Way to go, idiot!" He could still see the look on his father's face when Shawn stumbled into the trailer after it was over. It was betrayal, disgust, and mortification written all over his face.

_"You're not an idiot, Hunter. Hey, look at me. What are you talking about? Who hit you?"_

"I'm an idiot. He told me. I'm his son!" Chet was ashamed. If ever there had been a moment where he had been disappointed in him then that was it.

_ "No, Shawn! Wake up. You're dreaming, buddy."_

"Dad? Stop! I love you, dad!"

His belt was off and he felt the sting of the buckle licking his hand as he shielded his head behind his arms.

"_Shawn! SHAWN! It's okay, it's okay. Hunter, wake up_." Someone was tapping their palm against his cheek. It didn't hurt. His touch was gentle, careful. Shawn wanted to feel it. He needed it. "_Come on, Hunter. Wake up!"_

"Dad! Daddy!"

"_SHAWN_!"

Suddenly, blinking hard, in front of him was a much more desirable reality. "What are you doing?"

Jonathon wiped a tear away from the boy's cheek with his thumb, his hand still cupping his reddened face. He gave him a hard look.

"Oh, not again." Shawn sighed, realizing too late that his sleepwalking problem would eventually lead him to trouble.

"Let's talk about your dad, kid."

THE END!

THANKS FOR READING! YOUR COMMENTS THROUGHOUT THIS STORY WERE INSPIRING AND GAVE ME A LOT OF FAITH IN MYSELF AND MY ABILITY TO WRITE, BOTH CREATIVELY AND ACADEMICALLY. BECAUSE OF YOU, I CONTINUED TO DO WHAT I LOVE AND I HAVE LEARNED AS I HAVE GROWN WITH THE PROGRESSION OF THIS STORY.

TO ALL MY LOYAL FOLLOWERS…

...Join me for (YES!) the sequel, which will be named "Sleepwalking Hunter 2: The Aftermath"!

Keep an eye open ;)

Here's the link! s/9041155/1/Sleepwalking-Hunter-2-The-Aftermath


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